Chapter 7 — TVF Chapter 7

The Love-Brained Empress (7) When you really thought about it, the situation was genuinely fascinating.

On the one hand, the emperor knew perfectly well that if he hadn’t married into the Xiao clan—if he hadn’t had the support of Duke Cheng’en Xiao Jingzhou, the late Emperor Taizong’s officially recognized confidant and a battle-hardened general—then he might not have ascended the throne at all, let alone sat securely upon it.

On the other hand, the emperor deeply feared Duke Cheng’en’s towering prestige, even though the duke had already handed back his military authority, even though he had retired and gone off to a suburban Taoist temple to cultivate and refine pills.

Up to this point, it was still understandable. After all, “wanting it both ways” was practically the emperor’s signature trait. But what came next… even Qin Jingzhou couldn’t help but feel a trace of pity for the emperor’s utterly broken logic.

If you’re that wary—if you’ve already pegged Duke Cheng’en as a hypothetical enemy and stumbling block—then why did you never consider the possibility that he might refuse an imperial decree? And if he did refuse, what exactly were you planning to do about it?

Qin Jingzhou couldn’t help suspecting that Qi Langhuan had somehow lowered the emperor’s intelligence too. But after digging through the original owner’s memories, he realized that the emperor’s IQ had always been… impressive in its own way. It was just that he was good-looking, emotionally unreadable before his ascension, and famously terse with words—so very few people ever saw his true colors.

In other words, the emperor truly earned his future title as a fallen ruler through sheer personal ability. Whether or not Qi Langhuan existed as a femme fatale didn’t actually change the outcome much.

Soon enough, it was time for the Sixth Prince’s hundred-day banquet.

As always, Qin Jingzhou attended with only two daughters—Second Miss Xiao and Third Miss Xiao. The banquet was held in the Imperial Garden rather than a formal hall like Taihe Hall, and most attendees were imperial clansmen and meritorious nobles. The atmosphere was visibly relaxed, with far fewer rigid rules.

After so many years, Duke Cheng’en’s reappearance immediately drew a crowd of old acquaintances—“half-familiar” comrades—each bringing along their sons, nephews, and juniors to greet him and reminisce.

The night before, the emperor had stayed overnight in Kunning Palace. Empress Xiao had once again gotten drunk on the emperor’s peerless looks and sweet words. Today, she was brimming with confidence, determined to make her father agree to lead troops south.

Sure, father and daughter had parted on bad terms before—but this time, as long as she spoke softly and coaxed him, just like the emperor had taught her last night, surely her father would give in as long as he loved her. What a perfect chance to rack up military merit! Yes, it was a bit dangerous—but surely nothing would go wrong. Blades have no eyes… That phrase suddenly flashed through her mind, making her heart sink briefly. But she decisively ignored the feeling and instead grew even more delighted. The emperor had thought of her natal family first, thought of her father—clearly, she was still the wife he trusted most.

Qin Jingzhou said calmly, “Noble Consort Qi entered the palace eight years ago and rose from a low-ranking palace woman to Noble Consort. Her father and brothers climbed from fifth- and sixth-rank officials all the way to first-rank ministers. That is what it means for a natal family to be a pillar.”

He deliberately poked where it hurt, using the consort as an example. Empress Xiao collapsed completely, slumping sideways in her chair and bursting into loud sobs.

Qin Jingzhou glanced at the palace maids and matrons, who were desperately bowing their heads, and said pointedly, “Leave room for others. Enough is enough.”

Their heads dipped even lower.

Qin Jingzhou sat down as well, pressing a few acupoints to help his granddaughter sleep more deeply so she wouldn’t wake easily.

Only then did he speak leisurely. “You know the emperor needs me, don’t you? His favored generals can’t fight, the ones who can fight he can’t control, and only I—especially with you as my foolish daughter—make him think he can hold you hostage and make me work myself to the bone without daring to claim credit.”

Empress Xiao covered her eyes with a handkerchief and stayed silent.

Qin Jingzhou continued, “The people I prepared for you were all replaced bit by bit over the years. So no one reminded you that back when Emperor Taizong was alive, among all the princes and imperial grandsons, you could marry whomever you pleased. Why do you think you could act so willfully? Have you truly forgotten?”

Empress Xiao stopped crying instantly. A long-sealed memory burst open at his words, like floodgates lifting—and she sat there, utterly stunned.

Seeing that Prince Lu still hadn’t sent any signal, Qin Jingzhou didn’t rush him. He simply added, “When you ask someone for help, you need to act like a petitioner. You’ve been empress for so many years—have you not even learned how to threaten or leverage people?”

Empress Xiao finally replied, “But he’s the emperor!”

Qin Jingzhou snorted. “So what if he’s the emperor? Is the emperor not human? If he’s so brilliant and invincible, why doesn’t he personally lead the campaign? Why does he need me?”

Empress Xiao actually started thinking clearly. “So in the end, you still want me to beg you!”

“Yes,” Qin Jingzhou replied smoothly. “You have to beg me. But why won’t you make the emperor beg you?”

She froze again.

“You’re sometimes stupid beyond belief,” he said coolly. “I heard the emperor stayed in Kunning Palace last night? Ask yourself honestly—do you want the emperor’s true heart, or do you want him to treat you well like he did yesterday?”

Empress Xiao wanted to say: I want both. But when she met her father’s icy gaze, she instantly chickened out. Suddenly, she felt that settling for second best wasn’t so bad. The emperor didn’t love her—but for the sake of his ambitions, didn’t he still have to pretend to care and treat her well?

As much as she hated admitting it, Qi Langhuan herself couldn’t obtain the emperor’s true heart either. Deep down, the emperor likely only loved the empire itself.

So… better to choose the latter.

After wiping her tears and calming down, Empress Xiao asked, “Will you agree to lead troops south?”

Qin Jingzhou smiled. “Yes. But I’ll require members of the Qi family to serve as my deputy commanders.”

She knocked her forehead lightly. “The Qi family… will His Majesty agree?”

“If he doesn’t agree to me, I won’t agree to him.”

Empress Xiao tilted her head. “Right.”

Qin Jingzhou studied his bargain-bin eldest daughter again. By instinct, he felt she had awakened just a tiny bit—though she was still quite foolish.

So the key to restoring Empress Xiao’s intelligence was… forcing her to examine her relationship with the emperor? Gaining a little insight, and suddenly her brain worked better?

What kind of principle was that?

Qin Jingzhou was curious—but there was no rush. He had time.

With her eyes swollen, Empress Xiao’s rationality slowly returned. She didn’t forget to check on her daughter Zhuzhu. Seeing the little girl sleeping soundly in her grandfather’s arms, she felt relieved—and embarrassed. “I’ll go wash up.”

Qin Jingzhou had just nodded when a series of whistles came from outside the window—the agreed-upon signal with Prince Lu.

He chuckled and adjusted his hold on his granddaughter. “Don’t bother washing your face. Come watch the fun with me. Chang Le Palace is just on the other side of that wall.”

“Just one wall” turned out to be a full incense stick’s walk. By the time they arrived, they saw a livid Noble Consort Qi—and a seemingly unremarkable… Prince Jing.

As the original novel’s male lead, Prince Jing was undeniably handsome. Even with messy hair and several smudges of rouge on his cheeks, he still seemed to shine.

Noble Consort Qi, meanwhile, not only looked awful—her gaze toward Prince Jing carried indescribable emotion.

The most outrageous part? Even after seeing Duke Cheng’en and the empress arrive, she barely restrained herself. Her face and posture screamed accusation: Why did you have to choose this place?! To Qi Langhuan and Prince Jing, Chang Le Palace was special. Their child had been conceived here.

Prince Jing, however, wasn’t as emotionally reckless as the consort. He cupped his hands toward Qin Jingzhou. “Duke Cheng’en.” Though he was a prince, his father had once served as Xiao Jingzhou’s deputy. He then formally saluted Empress Xiao.

Watching her beloved ignore her entirely, the consort’s eye twitched.

Before she could speak, Prince Lu returned, smiling. “I’ve brought them.” He exchanged a subtle look with Qin Jingzhou, then ordered the imperial guards theatrically, “Bring them up.”

The guards complied, dragging a man and a woman and tossing them between Prince Jing and the consort.

The woman was a female official from the consort’s palace. On closer inspection, her rouge matched the smears on Prince Jing’s face perfectly.

The man was an old acquaintance: the Marquis of Antai’s eldest son.

Prince Lu blinked. “His Majesty will be here shortly.”

Sure enough, the emperor arrived almost immediately—it was obvious he’d been nearby. Rushing over, his golden hairpin sat crooked, and his bright yellow robe lacked its usual crispness.

Qin Jingzhou pondered: Why does the emperor suddenly look uglier…? Linking that to Empress Xiao becoming slightly smarter, he felt inspiration strike.

Seeing the emperor like this, Prince Lu laughed. “Your Majesty is truly making use of every spare moment.” He jerked his chin. “Please render judgment.” He even gestured—first vaguely at Prince Jing, then drawing a circle.

Qin Jingzhou nearly burst out laughing. He hadn’t realized Prince Lu was such a master of subtle sarcasm.

The truth was simple: the consort had arranged to meet the Marquis of Antai’s eldest son near Chang Le Palace to give instructions on how to keep entangling Second Miss Xiao. When guards altered their patrol route, the marquis’s son fled—straight into Chang Le Palace, startling Prince Jing and a beautiful palace official.

The official screamed and ran. The guards quickly reported their unexpected bonus to Prince Lu, who timed his arrival perfectly, had both culprits seized, and let palace maids run to summon the emperor.

At that moment, the emperor himself had been secretly meeting Prince Jing’s wife.

Yes. You read that right. In this Mary Sue romance novel, everyone was exchanging green hats in a perfect closed loop.

Qin Jingzhou had chosen “facing reality head-on” as his way of returning the favor to the Qi family—and of laying groundwork for both the male lead and the emperor.

Judging by the effect now… it was acceptable.

Realizing she’d been betrayed twice over, the consort trembled from lips to fingertips. If she’d been older, she might’ve had a stroke on the spot.

Prince Jing, still committed to his carefree persona, remained blissfully unaware his own corner had been dug out. He explained himself to the emperor honestly, then added shamelessly, “Your Majesty, can you give me that female official?”

The emperor glanced at the kneeling, shaking woman and agreed first, then scolded him. “Next time you fancy someone, can’t you say it directly? Do you have to throw a live fish onto the ground and sell it dead?”

Prince Jing shrugged. “I just… felt like it.”

Qin Jingzhou stepped forward, pointing at the pale Marquis of Antai’s son. “Your Majesty owes me an explanation.”

No one present—including the marquis’s son himself—believed the consort had any interest in him. Qin Jingzhou leaned hard on that fact. “She’s bullied my eldest daughter for years—losing out due to inferior skills would be one thing, but now she won’t even leave my second daughter alone? Dragging out the divorce indefinitely?”

Then he pivoted. “The empress already told me. Your Majesty may send me south—but the Qi family must provide two deputy commanders!”

“One… won’t do?” the emperor blurted out.

Qin Jingzhou smiled at the consort, who looked ready to faint. “The price just went up.”