Chapter 40 — TVF Chapter 40

A Poor Family’s Hereditary Scumbag (12) In truth, after Consort De was confined to Xianfu Palace, once the concubines of the inner palace vaguely learned what had happened to her, not a single one dared to gloat.

Even though the Noble Consort’s elder cousin was Prince Li’s principal consort, and the Noble Consort herself—along with the Sixth Prince—had been relatively close to Prince Li, with Prince Li even offering to lend the Sixth Prince “a helping hand”… seeing how things had ended for Consort De, the Noble Consort panicked. She summoned her son at once, and mother and son sat facing each other in silence for a long while.

For now, there was no rush to clarify things with Prince Li. He was likely overwhelmed himself. But they could take advantage of the moment to thoroughly investigate the people around them and conduct a proper purge.

After all, any concubine who had managed to survive safely in the inner palace until now was no fool. If even the Noble Consort—who had been openly exchanging glances with Prince Li—had begun self-examination and correction, the others certainly couldn’t afford to lag behind. Even if not to curry favor with the Emperor, they had to think of their own lives.

Being drugged at the drop of a hat… who could endure that?

The concubines almost unanimously began cleansing their households. Even the Empress—who had long shut herself away, claiming illness and devoting herself to Buddhist practice—could no longer sit still.

The Emperor had always respected the Empress but never truly loved her. Back when the Emperor was still obscure, the Empress’s natal family had sided with his brothers; after he ascended the throne, they crawled back to flatter him, and the Emperor said nothing, treating the Empress as before. What truly caused the near-total breakdown of their relationship was this: one time, after drinking, the Empress lost her temper and slapped the Emperor.

She didn’t hit his face, but left a cut on his neck.

After sobering up, the Empress was wracked with regret. She wrote a personal letter admitting her guilt to the Emperor, surrendered her authority over the inner palace, and then used illness as an excuse to withdraw from all affairs.

An emperor and empress coming to blows was no good reputation to spread. The Emperor still had feelings for her, and she had been sensible enough, so he tacitly allowed it—silencing the palace servants present and refraining from further investigation.

Recalling this incident, the Empress felt more and more that something was wrong. “I injured His Majesty, yet the next day my memory was extremely hazy. Why did I strike him? No matter how I think about it, I can’t recall!” She turned to her dowry matron. “When I’m angry, I only curse—I’ve never laid hands on anyone in my life!”

The matron reacted instantly. “Could Prince Li have already been able to make a move against Your Majesty back then?”

The Empress took a deep breath. “I fear it wasn’t just me. Even the death of Zhaoming’s mother, the Imperial Noble Consort, seems suspicious. Nanny, bring the testimonies from back then—I’m going to see His Majesty!”

Having been detached from affairs for many years, the Empress was slow to realize things. But what she could deduce, how could the Emperor not have thought of it already?

Only, the recent investigations showed that Prince Li and the Murong remnants were not a close-knit alliance. The true mastermind behind harming the Empress and murdering the Imperial Noble Consort should have been the Murong clan. Prince Li’s use of Murong agents to “bloom everywhere” in the palace seemed to be a matter of only the past few years.

The now-clear-headed, nearly despairing Consort De had also said that Prince Li only approached her a few years ago, and that his people gradually entered the palace through her hands.

In fact, if Prince Li had been powerful enough years ago to poison whomever he wished, the Emperor would have died young long ago.

Even so, after sorting out that not all the deaths of palace nobles over the years were Prince Li’s doing, the Emperor was still shocked and furious.

However, as Prince Li was a member of the imperial clan, without irrefutable proof it was difficult to persuade the clan elders—so evidence collection had to continue.

It was at this moment that Prince Li’s legitimate eldest daughter voluntarily went before the Emperor, offering to act as a “filial daughter in mourning,” righteously cutting off her own kin. She had only one request: that His Majesty bestow Qin Jingzhou upon her.

The Emperor refused her without hesitation.

His loathing for Prince Li’s faction’s arrogance only deepened.

After reading Ling Jing’s small note, Qin Jingzhou shook his head. “Once the Emperor has made up his mind, Prince Li won’t sit and wait for death. He’s probably preparing for war. Last time, my role was to flip the table—this time, I’ll have to be a loyalist.”

The system laughed as well. “Times change. If Prince Li and his heir could actually fight fair—using orthodox methods and winning through strategy—that’d be one thing. But from start to finish they’ve only taken crooked paths, yet still believe they’ll rule the world… that’s a serious illness.” Qin Jingzhou smiled faintly. “If the father and son are both seriously ill, why would the rest of Prince Li’s children be normal?” Even though he had already guessed Prince Li’s eldest daughter would pull some stunt, he’d assumed she would target him—lying in wait after banquets, forcibly abducting him, or throwing a sack over his head. He never imagined she would bribe servants in his own household and kidnap Yu Depei, chair and all.

While drinking with fellow graduates, he learned from a steward who arrived drenched in sweat that his scumbag son had been abducted. He nearly sprayed out the wine in his mouth.

Wiping his lips, he asked immediately, “Where’s Tianniu?”

The steward hurriedly replied, “Miss is safe. Everyone’s fine—except the young master.”

The Tanhua at the table was furious. “Absolutely despicable!”

Prince Li’s family had always had a terrible reputation among scholars.

Princess Zhaoming liked to have fun, but she always insisted on mutual consent. Prince Li’s children were different—consent or not, they’d make it happen.

The Bangyan added, “This was deliberately timed to force your hand. Even though the list is out and we’re all jinshi now, we’re not yet officials. Breaking into a commoner’s home and breaking into an official’s home are completely different matters.”

That had some truth to it—but the crux wasn’t there.

Qin Jingzhou couldn’t claim perfect knowledge of Prince Li’s faction, but by their logic, the truth wasn’t hard to infer.

Princess Zhaoming was in her early thirties and childless—she had likely already been hit. Regardless of whether he liked Yu Depei or not, Yu Depei was still his only son.

So abducting Yu Depei to threaten him was secondary. The real issue was that even if Yu Depei returned safely, he would most likely be inexplicably sterilized.

Next, that commandery princess would demand this and that; otherwise, she’d withhold the antidote, effectively cutting off his lineage.

Qin Jingzhou shook his head with a smile. “Never having fallen once in your life really does breed this kind of confidence.”

He knew his scumbag son wouldn’t die, but he couldn’t just leave it alone. He bade farewell to his fellow graduates and hurried off with the steward.

First, Qin Jingzhou had his attendant take his card to report the case to the authorities. Then he instructed the household manager to return home and reassure his nephews and little sister. He himself went straight to Princess Zhaoming’s residence.

Since everyone already believed he was suffering on another’s behalf, seeking a powerful backer to resolve the issue was perfectly reasonable.

Ling Jing had been staying in the palace lately, helping her father purge palace personnel.

So Qin Jingzhou only met the chief steward of the princess’s residence. Since Ling Jing’s daily—or every-other-day—notes all passed through his hands, the steward knew exactly what position the Prince Consort held in the princess’s heart and showed no neglect at all, immediately promising to send word into the palace.

As the apple of the Emperor’s eye, Princess Zhaoming enjoyed privileges both inside and outside the palace. The steward personally delivering a message and being waved through by the guards was nothing unusual.

When the message arrived, Ling Jing had just finished dinner with her father and returned to Jingren Palace.

Reading Qin Jingzhou’s note, she didn’t even change clothes—she turned around and went straight back to Qianqing Palace to see her father.

Qin Jingzhou’s note included his speculation about the commandery princess’s motives. Ling Jing seized the opportunity. “Father, let’s test everyone.”

Testing for secret drugs wasn’t hard—the hard part was that blood tests in this era didn’t involve drawing a few milliliters. They involved bloodletting—half a bowl at a time.

The palace ladies were all delicate; even a scraped patch of skin warranted a physician’s visit. Who would willingly give up half a bowl of blood unless absolutely necessary? Only the Empress had been resolute enough—she had insisted on being tested to clear herself of suspicion, only to discover she had been poisoned, with residual toxins still present to this day.

There was also another point: just because the Empress, Consort De, and the Tenth Prince had all been poisoned by Murong secret drugs didn’t mean many people in the palace were affected. In reality, the number was likely quite limited.

Secret drugs required rare ingredients and were difficult to prepare. Most also needed to be administered orally, through inhalation, and via skin contact together—otherwise the effect was greatly diminished.

Since only a few would have been poisoned, mass blood testing wasn’t really necessary.

At this point, the Emperor read Qin Jingzhou’s note and grew angry again—his blood pressure rising—but that didn’t stop him from agreeing. “Test them. Test whoever needs it!”

Both the original host and Ling Jing were decisive people.

With her father’s approval, she summoned the physicians immediately—without delay. Sure enough, Ling Jing showed traces of having been poisoned in the past, and her difficulty in bearing children… was real.

So once Yu Depei was found, testing him would provide the answer.

The Emperor directly assigned the task to his trusted deputy commander of secret agents and the Prefect of the Capital, with the Imperial Guards and Five City Garrison cooperating in the search.

Through relentless efforts, at dawn they found an unconscious Yu Depei in an abandoned residence in the southern city.

The house was registered under a trusted aide of Prince Li’s commandery princess.

When Yu Depei was bloodlet for testing, he suddenly woke up, saw a large gash on his arm with blood gushing out, widened his eyes—and promptly fainted again.

Whether he fainted or not didn’t stop the physicians from continuing the examination.

Looking at the unflinching princess and prince consort, one physician muttered inwardly on Qin Jingzhou’s behalf: A tiger begets a dog—still doting on his son; clearly he hasn’t beaten him enough. Before morning court, the results came out. Although Yu Depei hadn’t been poisoned with the same drug as Princess Zhaoming, he too suffered from impaired fertility.

Yu Depei happened to groggily open his eyes just as the physician announced the conclusion. Tears pooled in his eyes as he looked pitifully at his biological father seated across from him.

Seeing this, Qin Jingzhou deliberately smiled and said to Princess Zhaoming, “He’s finished. We can rest easy and have another child.”

Yu Depei let out a howl and fainted again.

Gathering all the evidence in a single night—the Emperor’s efficiency was nothing short of astonishing.

Yet at morning court, Prince Li and his son were nowhere to be seen. Even after his trusted head eunuch reported that both were “ill,” the Emperor felt something was off. So during court, he ordered the Clan Registrar to pay a visit to Prince Li’s residence.

After court, the Clan Registrar went straight to the Prince Li estate. Inside, he found the weary Prince Li Consort and the heir’s wife. Prince Li and his son had fled the night before—especially the heir, who had abandoned all his wives, concubines, and children, taking only his beloved mistress. Enraged, the heir’s wife told everything: Prince Li and his son had escaped through underground tunnels.

Tunnels that had been dug continuously for twenty years beneath Prince Li’s estate.

Prince Li had lived there for over twenty years since receiving his title. The tunnel exit lay less than a hundred meters from the capital’s western gate.

With this, the Emperor no longer needed to collect witnesses or evidence to persuade the imperial clan. He directly declared Prince Li a rebel.

Back in his northeastern fief, Prince Li didn’t hold back either—he issued a fiercely worded “Proclamation to the Realm,” enumerating the Emperor’s “immorality and injustice.”

Qin Jingzhou read it. His takeaway: The Emperor’s fanfiction is pretty well written—pure fabrication, yet somehow it doesn’t make the Emperor too out of character. Qin Jingzhou could treat it as entertainment. The Emperor could not.

He ordered Qin Jingzhou, his newly minted top scholar son-in-law, to rush out a rebuttal proclamation.

Accepting the task, Qin Jingzhou turned to Ling Jing. “Can you copy a few excerpts of the plot you received for me?”

Ling Jing immediately perked up and dumped five hundred thousand words of the original text on him. “I said long ago I couldn’t be the only one to go blind. If you survive reading it, come ask me for more.”

Qin Jingzhou: ……Fine. I’ll try.