Joy of Life: Starting by clinging to the eldest princess's coattails!

Chapter 35 The Storm Is Brewing

Five days later, the west gate of Kyoto was opened wide.

Fan Jian's Tiger Guards joined forces with Chen Pingping's Black Riders, who had just arrived in Kyoto, and escorted Emperor Qing's carriage into the capital.

The main force has been left far behind.

The sky was overcast, with leaden clouds hanging low, making it hard to breathe.

The Ministry of Rites had originally prepared a grand triumphant ceremony, complete with colorful silks, music, and officials welcoming the return of the emperor.

However, all of them were cancelled because of the Taiping Villa incident.

Only a few officials stood sparsely at the city gate, bowing their heads low and not daring to even breathe loudly.

The carriage curtain was lifted, and Emperor Qing appeared.

He was dressed in casual clothes, his face was a little pale, but his back was ramrod straight.

His eyes were bloodshot, and there were deep dark circles under his eyes. His whole face was taut like a fully drawn bow.

Fan Jian rode a horse on the left side of the carriage, while Chen Pingping's wheelchair moved on the right.

Both men looked equally grim. Fan Jian's lips were tightly pressed together, and the veins on the back of his hand, gripping the reins, bulged.

Chen Pingping sat in a wheelchair, his usually calm face now so gloomy it seemed to drip water, his eyes flashing with a cold light.

The entire procession was eerily silent, with only the sounds of horses' hooves and wheels rolling over the cobblestones.

After entering the city.

Chen Pingping raised her hand to signal the car to stop.

The line stopped immediately.

Chen Pingping turned to the carriage, his voice hoarse: "Your Majesty, I will return to the Censorate first."

Emperor Qing looked over from the carriage, his voice equally hoarse and deep: "Once you've found out, bring the results to the palace immediately. I need to know her current whereabouts and whether she's injured!"

"Your subject understands."

Chen Pingping responded with a nod, said no more, and waved his hand.

A squad of black-clad riders immediately turned around and escorted his wheelchair toward the Overwatch Council, their hooves clattering rapidly on the street.

As soon as Chen Pingping left, Emperor Qing looked at Fan Jian and said, "You go with us, taking the Tiger Guards with you."

Fan Jian tightened his grip on the reins.

He desperately wanted to rush to the Censorate, but seeing Emperor Qing's pale face, he said in a deep voice:

"Your Majesty, the situation in the capital is complicated, and you... I would like to escort you back to the palace first."

Emperor Qing stared at him for a few seconds, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, a trace of weariness flashed in his eyes: "...Return to the palace."

"Yes."

The convoy resumed its journey, slowly making its way towards the palace.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

At the entrance of the Censorate.

Apart from Murong Yan, the head of the Second Division, Wuxin, the head of the Fifth Division, and Yingzi, the head of the Sixth Division, the other five department heads were all waiting at the door.

Everyone stood with their hands at their sides, their faces grave.

The sound of horses' hooves could be heard in the distance.

A troop of black-clad riders escorted a carriage as it arrived and stopped at the entrance of the Censorate.

The car door opened, and a black-clad rider stepped forward, carefully lifted Chen Pingping out, and placed her in a specially made wheelchair that had been prepared beforehand.

"Greetings, Dean."

Everyone at the entrance bowed respectfully, their voices in unison.

Chen Pingping did not speak.

He sat in his wheelchair, his gaze sweeping coldly over the people in front of him, his face expressionless.

Then he raised his hand and waved it, and the black riders pushing the wheelchair behind him immediately moved and entered the Overwatch Council.

The other organizers immediately followed suit.

Not long after, in Chen Pingping's study.

Five organizers came in and closed the door.

The study was dimly lit, with only the daylight filtering through the window illuminating Chen Pingping's face in half-light and half-shadow.

He looked directly at Zhu Ge, his voice flat but as cold as ice: "So many days have passed, you should have found out by now, right? Tell me, who did it? Where is Miss now?"

Zhu Ge sensed the anger in Chen Pingping's tone, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

He glanced at Yan Ruohai before turning to Chen Pingping: "Dean, we've found out who did it. But..."

"explain!"

Chen Pingping suddenly raised her voice; the sound wasn't loud, but it cleaved the silence of the study like a knife.

Zhu Ge dared not hesitate any longer. He took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over with both hands: "Dean, the results... are all here."

Chen Pingping took the paper, her fingers trembling slightly.

He unfolded it, his gaze falling on the paper.

The study was eerily quiet, with only the faint sound of papers unfolding.

A few breaths later, everyone saw that Chen Pingping's expression changed.

On that usually calm face, the muscles gradually tensed, the eyes widened, and the pupils contracted.

The fingers gripping the paper were white, and the edges of the paper were pinched into deep creases.

He was trembling all over, not from fear, but from anger—a suppressed, almost explosive grief and indignation.

Like a lion trapped in a cage, ready to pounce and tear everything apart at any moment.

All the organizers held their breath, their heartbeats slowed down.

Zhu Ge swallowed hard and spoke in a low voice:

"Dean, during our investigation these past few days, we've discovered... it's as if someone is deliberately guiding us. Although all the intelligence matches up, I have a feeling that someone is intentionally trying to get us to find out the truth sooner."

In her wheelchair, Chen Pingping slowly raised her eyes.

Those eyes were filled with murderous intent, so cold that no one dared to look directly at them.

He stared at Zhu Ge, his voice soft, yet it sent chills down everyone's spine:

"Is the eldest princess involved in this matter?"

Zhu Ge immediately replied:

"The eldest princess attempted an assassination, but failed. As for this matter... I have investigated and found that she was not involved."

Chen Pingping closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, all his emotions were suppressed, leaving only a cold, lifeless silence on his face.

He raised his hand, folded the paper neatly, and put it in his pocket.

"One, three, four, five, six places, get ready." His voice returned to its usual calm, but was colder than before. "Prepare the carriages; I'm going to the palace immediately."

Finally, he added a sentence, his tone very soft, yet it made the temperature in the study drop even further:

"Wait until I come out of the palace."

"Yes, Dean!"

Everyone responded in unison.

Everyone understands what this sentence means.

Once the director comes out of the palace, that's when the Censorate will take action!

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The Imperial Palace, Guangxin Palace.

Chunmei strode into the main hall and stopped beside Li Yunrui, her voice low: "Your Highness, Chen Pingping has entered the palace."

Li Yunrui was lying on her side on the soft couch. Upon hearing this, she slowly opened her eyes.

She wore a plain white palace dress today, her long hair loosely tied up, with a few stray strands falling beside her cheeks. A lazy smile graced her face, but her eyes gleamed with an unusual light.

"It's finally starting..."

She spoke softly, a delicate yet icy smile curving her lips.

She sat up from the soft couch and looked towards Chang Le Palace, her eyes filled with a hint of amusement and anticipation.

"Old man," her voice was soft and charming, yet tinged with amusement, "it all depends on whether His Majesty... will spare no thought for the bond between mother and son."

Wu Feng stood quietly three steps behind her, his hands hanging down, his eyes downcast.

But at that moment, his mind was racing with calculations.

Emperor Qing is back; he'll definitely go see Ye Qingmei's body.

The marker for the shifting of stars has been placed; now all that's needed is the opportune moment—an opportunity when Emperor Qing is present, witnessing Ye Qingmei's corpse firsthand.

The best way to make a corpse disappear is to do so right under the emperor's nose.

He needs to make the most of this opportunity.

Just then, Li Yunrui suddenly turned her head and looked at him.

Her alluring eyes curved slightly, and her voice carried a unique, almost morbid, tenderness.

"Little Wu, what do you think... His Majesty will do?"

Wu Feng raised his eyes, looked at her beautiful face, and answered softly:

"Your Highness, I don't know what His Majesty will do. But I do know... that Kyoto will be very lively in the coming days."

Li Yunrui smiled, a soft laugh that echoed through the quiet main hall.

"Yes," she said, leaning back on the couch and closing her eyes, "it'll be very lively..."