Chapter 35 – Offending the Dragon’s Wrath

To Ning Zhaorou, this ordeal wasn’t something worth crying over—compared to the bitterness she had endured in the past, this was nothing.

But when she reached out her hand, the emperor pulled her into his arms. His robes weren’t especially warm, yet the moment their bodies touched, a sigh of contentment rose from deep within her chest. Her throat tightened, her eyes burned hot—it felt like something inside was about to spill over.

She clung to his body as though she wanted to melt into him completely.

Yin Mingyu lowered his eyes, allowing her to nestle against him almost without restraint. He glanced at the bed’s thin covers and pulled them over her, wrapping her tightly.

Warm tears trickled from her cheek down to his neck.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her and used one hand to gently stroke her head, pressing lightly at the nape of her neck. Though he said nothing, his actions conveyed all the comfort she needed.

Yin Mingyu somewhat regretted not personally assigning someone to watch over her. Instead, he’d delegated the task, and they had merely arranged for an ordinary maidservant to stay at the marquis’ residence and keep an eye on her. He should have been more thorough—should have sent trusted palace maids skilled in self-defense to guard her closely. If he had, she wouldn’t have suffered such a grievance.

The initial report he received was vague: she had visited Lian Guang Temple during the day, then was summoned to the front hall, and afterward punished by being made to kneel in the ancestral hall—overnight—and had now fallen ill.

When Zhou Lu came to relay this message, Yin Mingyu had flung his tea cup across the floor.

All the palace attendants within the hall immediately dropped to their knees, holding their breath, not daring to make a sound.

Zhou Lu trembled where he lay prostrate on the ground. “Your Majesty, please calm your anger,” he pleaded, one hand pressing against the shards of porcelain as he waited for the emperor’s response.

“It seems I’ve been too lenient lately, allowing even unverified rumors to reach me,” Yin Mingyu said coldly.

Zhou Lu broke out in cold sweat and quickly begged for forgiveness.

The servant sent to the Anping Marquis’ estate had been just an ordinary eunuch—not even a personal palace maid—merely someone to keep an eye on Second Miss Ning. No one had expected His Majesty to care so much about her. Now Zhou Lu fully understood: this matter had been gravely mishandled.

He hurried to redeem himself. “This servant will immediately investigate thoroughly and replace the personnel serving Second Miss Ning.”

Yin Mingyu said nothing of whether he was satisfied or not. He tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “You may all rise. Go receive ten strokes of the rod.”

Zhou Lu finally let out a breath of relief, received the order, and quickly left.

The other palace staff stood up as well, quietly cleaning the mess and replacing the tea. No one dared make even the slightest noise.

The second report came quickly, and Zhou Lu returned, freshly punished with the rod.

Though the strokes hadn’t been heavy—after all, he was a trusted attendant and still had many duties—Zhou Lu had learned his lesson. He delivered the new findings, now with a mix of relief and lingering fear.

Thankfully, Second Miss Ning had been sharp enough to avoid the trap. If she really had encountered the Chengyang Count’s third son on the road, who knew what sort of scandal might have spread.

After relaying the report, Zhou Lu dared not even glance at the emperor’s expression.

No wonder. They had just dealt with Prince Jing, and now this Chengyang third son appeared. Second Miss Ning was truly pitiful, while that Marquis’ wife was undeniably vicious—what kind of mother would concoct such a poisonous scheme?

Yin Mingyu thought of the rain from the day before. Though today was overcast, someone already ill and lying in bed must still be suffering.

In five days, the Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet would take place.

Zhou Lu waited a moment, then saw His Majesty casually open a book and, as he flipped through its pages, gave an order:

“Pass down my decree. Summon the Anping Marquis to the palace.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. At once,” Zhou Lu answered.

When the imperial decree arrived, the Anping Marquis was chatting happily with Madam Wu. He froze, flustered, and rushed forward to instruct his servants to fetch his coin pouch. He handed it to the eunuch who had delivered the order, asking nervously:

“Eunuch… do you know why His Majesty suddenly wishes to see me?”

He held a minor and idle position at court—why would the emperor suddenly summon him?

The eunuch who delivered the decree gently pushed the coin pouch back and said with a faint, ambiguous smile, “My lord must be joking. How could this servant know His Majesty’s thoughts? Since His Majesty wishes to see you, it’s best you quickly change into your official robes and come with me.”

The Anping Marquis froze for a second before quickly responding, “Yes, of course.” He stepped back and called for Madam Wu to help him dress.

“Could it be… that incident with Prince Jing some time ago… perhaps the emperor thinks we’re connected—” Wu shi couldn’t help stopping in her tracks as the thought occurred to her.

It really was the only explanation. Prince Jing had shown an interest in that Ning girl and had sent people to inquire about her. Could the emperor suspect that Prince Jing was trying to form alliances with their household?

“Silence! Don’t ever mention that again—” the Anping Marquis cut her off sharply, his face especially grim.

Wu shi immediately composed herself and gently replied, “Yes.”

After the marquis left the residence, Wu shi sent someone to check on Ning Zhaorou’s courtyard. Upon learning that she was still sick, she ordered someone to go keep watch.

When the Anping Marquis entered the palace, he was kept kneeling in the grand hall the entire time. Even after nightfall, no imperial edict came summoning him inside.

That night, Yin Mingyu left the palace for a while.

The courtyard where Ning Zhaorou lived was farther than everyone else’s—quiet and isolated. Even indoors, only a faint candlelight flickered.

When the door creaked open, the sound of slow and steady footsteps followed. They passed through the outer room and into the inner chamber. A gauzy inner curtain was lifted, revealing a canopy bed with drapes drawn.

He sat down in a huanghuali chair beside the bed, quietly gathering his thoughts. Then he simply waited—for Ning Zhaorou to wake, and to discover he was there.

She didn’t sleep long.

He heard a soft rustle from the bed, then saw the curtains part to reveal her startled, flustered face.

So he extended a hand and called her name gently, “Zhaozhao.”

It was perhaps the most she had ever cried in front of him—tears scorching as they streamed down her neck, each drop a silent cry of fear and grievance.

She looked so pitiful and fragile that Yin Mingyu didn’t hold back his tenderness. He gently stroked her head and then gathered her into his arms, lifting her into the bed.

Ning Zhaorou refused to let go.

So Yin Mingyu asked her directly, “May I sit on your bed for a while?”

The head nestled at his neck gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

So he held her while sitting down on the bed.

It was more spacious than he expected. He adjusted the covers around them, cradling her body beneath the quilt, then took out a handkerchief to wipe her tears.

“I’ve already learned what happened yesterday,” he said softly.

As soon as he spoke, Ning Zhaorou turned her face and rubbed gently against him.

“Zhaozhao is clever. You realized something was wrong and fled—that was exactly the right thing to do.” Yin Mingyu finished wiping her tears, then kissed her lightly on the forehead beneath the moonlight.

Ning Zhaorou looked up at him. Her throat seemed to catch for a moment, and then she nodded in agreement.

Yin Mingyu chuckled softly and cupped her face with both hands. “From now on, I’ll handle everything. Leave it all to me.”