MTLNOVEL Chapter 142: The Eye Of The Storm
The doors to the Phoenix Courtyard exploded open with a crack like thunder. One of the lacquered panels slammed against the wall, knocking over a tray of tea and sending a pair of court musicians scrambling to the floor.
The eunuchs that were almost crushed by the door dropped to their knees, hoping to be out of the line of sight for the enraged man who burst into the room like an uncontrollable storm. But they didn't need to worry.
The Emperor didn't flinch. He didn't even look at them.
"I will not be made a fool!" he roared, his voice causes everyone to drop to their knees.
His boots struck the floor in unsteady, furious rhythm—half march, half storm. The carved dragons along the corridor seemed to twist in shadow as he passed, as if recoiling from his fury. His imperial robes, golden and dark crimson, flared around him like a bleeding flag.
"Spies in my court. Lies in my throne room. Ministers who think I am blind. Old! That I am too stupid to tell a truth from a lie. Me! Can you believe it?!? Me!"
He bellowed the last word with such violence that the palace guards outside turned their heads—then quickly turned back, eyes straight ahead. No one in the Forbidden City dared to look too long when the Emperor lost his temper. It was said he had once ordered a servant's tongue cut out just for looking frightened.
Now, his rage stormed through the Empress's private sanctuary without invitation or explanation. The stillness of her courtyard was shattered in an instant.
And yet—
She did not rise.
The Empress sat in her sunlit pavilion, surrounded by silk curtains and the sweet scent of lotus petals. A lacquered table sat before her, holding an open book, a dish of candied plums, and a delicate cup of floral tea. Her head rested against her hand, elbow propped on the table, a single finger toying idly with a corner of the page.
The Emperor's fury whipped around her like a gale—and she remained entirely untouched.
"Minister Bai, Minister Hui, Minister Zhao—all of them—flinging accusations like children. Treason! Rebellion! As if they could spot a coup before it was halfway out of its cradle." His voice cracked from shouting, but he didn't stop. "They wanted me to execute him. Execute my heir! The one that I chose! Based on what? Fabricated scrolls? Bruises on a girl who's lied since the day she stepped into the palace?!"
Still, the Empress said nothing.
Not even a glance.
He continued to pace.
"They think I've grown soft," he snarled. "They think I am tired. That I can be guided. Controlled. Like one of their damned sons-in-law." He kicked a garden stool across the stone path. It shattered against the base of a plum tree.
A pair of court women bowed so low they nearly kissed the floor, clutching each other to keep from trembling too visibly.
"The worst part is that only those three spoke out today, but who knows how many ministers are on their side?!?" he muttered, his face turning an ugly shade of red that clashed with his golden robes. "The worst part is that woman. They tried to attack his home, his manor, only to find out that she is a living weapon. She fought back, and they hated that. But she's not wrong. She protected him. That's what they hate. That woman, that witch—they couldn't break her, and they know he listens to her now."
He spun on his heel. "That's the threat. Not her knives. Not her poisons. Her loyalty. Luckily, I know where his loyalty lies, and for that, I never have to worry about her."
The Empress turned a page.
"But it's more than just those three," he repeated, the whites of his eyes a stark contrast to the red of his face. "I want names," he barked, stalking toward the edge of the pavilion. "I want a list of every prince who's taken gifts from these ministers. Every son who's been invited to dinner. Every household servant that's left one palace for another in the last three months. If they're grooming a replacement, I want to know which horse they're backing—and how many legs I have to break."
At last, the Empress lifted her gaze.
Not with urgency. Not with worry. Just a soft, amused glance from beneath her lashes.
"Of course, Your Majesty," she said mildly, her voice smooth as aged wine. "I'm sure your Shadow Guards are already on it."
The Emperor stilled.
For a moment, only the rustle of wind in the silk curtains filled the silence. A single petal floated down from the tree above, landing in his hair and clinging there, unnoticed.
He stared at her—at her calm, at her poise, at the maddening way she hadn't even closed her book.
And then he exhaled—hard. "If they think I'll let them decide who wears my crown, they've mistaken me for my grandfather."
"No one would ever confuse you with your grandfather," the Empress replied sweetly.
The Emperor grunted. He turned again, making for the exit, voice still rising as he stormed back through the corridor.
"They'll remember who rules this empire, and they'll remember it today."
The doors slammed again, the sound echoing like cannon fire.
And then—quiet.
Utter, perfect quiet.
The court ladies slowly raised their heads and came to their feet. One reached for the shattered teacup, hands still shaking. Another righted the stool and began brushing plum blossoms off the stone.
The Empress remained seated.
She closed her book carefully, one hand tracing the spine. Then she lifted her tea and sipped without a ripple of emotion.
Only once the flavor settled on her tongue did she smile.
"Well, well, well," she murmured, setting the cup down with a faint click. "I wonder how Meimei is going to like that?"
She turned her head, staring at the doors her husband had just blown through.
Then, in a voice too soft for the servants to hear, she added, "He still thinks it's about the sons."
She stood, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. Her attendants gathered her robe and followed, silent as ghosts, as she moved back toward her chambers.
"He's more worried about the ministers and the princes than about the real threat… their mothers. But that is fine. What he can't see, I can. What he can't do, I will. I will make sure that not a single one of these ministers with sisters in the harem can even look at my son again, let along target him. He is not theirs to touch," she whispered.
And she smiled again—this time, with teeth.