Jintang
CHAPTER 3
12
“You’ve done well—using my blade to kill my son.”
Emperor Shen Chong cast aside the Third Prince, who was still kneeling outside the Hall of Mental Cultivation, as he came storming in to question me.
All I had done was vent some anger—yet he accused me of striking at his son.
Shen Chong today is far more subdued than the sharp-eyed, iron-handed man he once was.
Back then, he couldn’t tolerate a single grain of sand in his eyes. Now, all he wants is a peaceful court and harmonious harem, endlessly trying to smooth things over.
I found it unacceptable. So I leaned back in my lounge chair, eyes closed, basking in the sun—not sparing him a single glance.
When the silence dragged on, he reached out and brushed my cheek.
“You, ah… the more time passes, the more you become like her.”
When the Emperor visited the Huguo Temple to see the Empress Dowager, he fell in love at first sight with the beloved Ru Fei—that's me.
Ru Fei, Ru Fei… The consort as he wished her to be.
How laughable. I had become a stand-in for myself.
After all, who could’ve imagined that the current Meng Jin was none other than Shen Chong’s long-dead white moonlight—Yun Tang.
Imitating myself, I could be as much like me as I wanted.
That’s why, when I dragged him off his horse with a single strike, pinned his shoulders under my boot, and nearly snapped his neck, he saw in my blade, in my manner, the shadow of someone long gone.
He wanted to make this arrogant, unyielding woman his Ru Fei.
I gave him one condition: Kill the fake daughter. Avenge me.
But he no longer had the ruthlessness of the past. He refused to interfere in the inner affairs of court officials.
All he did was assign me the Minister of Dali Temple and Chief Eunuch Wu as aides—whether the wicked would be brought to justice depended solely on my methods.
Exceptional times require forceful means.
This, after all, was what the eighteen-year-old Shen Chong once told me himself.
So I chose bloody, brutal interrogation.
With the Minister present, the evidence was airtight—and they all confessed.
Yet the Third Prince decided to play the hero for a beauty, trying to turn me into a wrongly executed scapegoat.
Shen Chong wanted to protect his son. I needed to vent my rage. We reached an impasse.
“He nearly died of illness as a child. The Empress coddled him too much—spoiled him into this arrogant fool. He’s been a great disappointment.”
I let out a cold laugh.
“And a single ‘disappointment’ is all you’ll say?”
Displeasure flickered across Shen Chong’s face.
But I tilted my head and stared him down, unflinching.
There was mockery in my eyes, sharp and provocative—the very expression he once told Yun Tang he loved most.
It forced him to step back, ready to speak...
“Her Majesty the Empress arrives!”
My eyes lit up.
Zhu Huan, ah—it’s been too long.
Everything I did to bring down the Third Prince—was all just a welcome gift for you.
13
She was still the same as ever, carrying herself with the poised grace of a noblewoman raised in the ways of virtue and propriety.
Only when her eyes swept over me—and my blade—did the corner of her eye twitch slightly.
But she didn’t look aside, kneeling solemnly before Shen Chong:
“The Third Prince is still young. He was misled and provoked by wicked people, which is the only reason he acted so rashly and foolishly.”
“As the Empress, I have failed in my duty to guide him properly. I cannot escape blame. I remove my crown and beg to be punished. I request to be sent to the Cold Palace as penance.”
The matron beside her immediately dropped to her knees as well:
“Your Majesty, Her Grace is still unwell—she only just managed to get out of bed, yet she came here bringing the Third Prince to beg forgiveness. Please show mercy. The Cold Palace would destroy Her Grace’s health.”
If the Empress were implicated, it would shake the very foundation of the imperial lineage.
Not to mention—the Zhu family, with their three generations of court officials, would never let it slide.
Court would erupt with endless strife.
And Shen Chong despised nothing more than the incessant bickering of old ministers in court.
Zhu Huan, just like her younger self, still loved to ‘save the nation through a roundabout way.’
But she was dreaming too sweetly.
“Isn’t that matron talking too much?” I said lazily. “Does His Majesty need you to speak for him?”
Matron Li and the Empress both blanched.
I gave Shen Chong a glare.
“You too, huh? Found yourself a mouthpiece to say all the unpleasant things, so you can keep playing the sweet, agreeable one? How clever.”
The Empress’s refined smile froze, exposed for the farce it was.
The meddlesome matron was quickly dragged out by Chief Eunuch Wu, and when the sharp slaps echoed from outside, Zhu Huan’s face turned to ice.
Her hatred briefly swept across my face like a blade—but I remained entirely unbothered, casually nudging Shen Chong’s leg under the table:
“So? Who’s the ‘wicked one’ here? Me?”
“Or that wretched fake daughter?”
If you can’t bear to punish your son, then punish the fake. A compromise. One that works for everyone.
Shen Chong caught the message behind my words. His scowl began to melt, like spring snow.
“You are my beloved consort. If even you are called wicked—then what kind of muddleheaded ruler would that make me?”
“The Empress suggests that the Meng daughter is cruel and calculating, used my son, and even tried to kill my beloved consort. That is truly unforgivable. Therefore, I shall punish—”
“Father, no!”
I smirked.
Ah, and here comes the fool.
14
Shen Yuchen, who had been kneeling in the courtyard to plead for forgiveness, stormed into my inner palace the moment he heard Meng Xueru was to be punished.
Completely disregarding decorum. Utterly foolish. Just as I’d hoped.
“Insolent!”
Zhu Huan slapped the Third Prince hard across the face without hesitation.
“If I don’t discipline you, you’ll keep letting these vipers poison your mind!”
“She was a substitute who deceived His Majesty, a calamity that nearly cost Ru Fei her life. Giving her a poisoned wine is already a dignified end.”
The Emperor, not wanting to punish his son too harshly, had shoved Meng Xueru forward as a scapegoat.
The Empress, naturally, was more than happy to comply—riding the wave, she offered up Meng Xueru’s life to preserve her son’s.
Yet the ungrateful fool of a prince suddenly knelt down before us.
“Mother, I’ve always been sincere to Xueru. She is pure and kind—not the wicked person you claim.”
He glanced at me then, voice faltering slightly:
“She was only framed... and now her face is ruined. She’s pitiful. You, as Empress, should protect such a poor, helpless girl.”
Shen Chong closed his eyes deeply, exasperated.
Zhu Huan looked ready to faint from fury.
I generously offered her a way out:
“If His Highness doesn’t believe us, why not have him personally accompany the Dali Temple? See the process through. After all, if she must die, then at least let her die with clarity. Let’s investigate fully.”
Panic flickered across Zhu Huan’s face.
The ‘process’ at the Dali Temple… was nothing short of hell.
Once Meng Xueru was sent in, it would be a fate worse than death.
Yes—death—and I still wouldn’t let her die cleanly.
The spiked bed, the burning iron, ears sliced, fingers severed, thrown into snake pits...
Seventy-two tortures spread across five underground levels.
I wondered how far Meng Xueru would make it.
The injustice suffered by Meng Jin—me—would be repaid in that very blood-soaked descent.
Zhu Huan couldn’t bear for the child she’d sheltered to witness that.
Her usual refined mask crumbled; she began pleading, desperately.
But I had already yielded once. How could Shen Chong press me any further?
“If you keep shielding him, with how useless he is, he’s only fit to be sent to some barren fief to plow dirt.”
“Instead of kneeling here begging, why not actually teach that disappointing son of yours something useful?”
Zhu Huan was, after all, his official wife, long respected by Shen Chong. But this was the first time he scolded her so harshly. Her dignity shattered, she dared not speak again.
In the end, the Third Prince was sent to the Dali Temple.
“I’ve avenged you. Satisfied now?” Shen Chong’s voice was cold, glaring at me with deep displeasure etched in his brows.
I leaned in, pushing him down onto the desk, straddling him like the impish, reckless Yun Tang at fifteen:
“Not very satisfied. But since you protected me… I’ll return the favor and satisfy you.”
Yun Tang’s tricks—I played them with practiced ease. Just enough resemblance, but never too much.
Always making Shen Chong feel fulfilled… but never quite.
Just that sliver of difference—it gnawed at him, made his heart itch.
Made him miss me.
Made him miss her—more and more.
15
But within just three days, the once high-spirited Third Prince fell ill.
Understandable, really. Watching the one you cherish have her index finger sliced off right before your eyes, her flesh peeled away piece by piece until all that remained was a bloody, mangled frame—then still stretch out a blood-soaked hand to you, crying “Brother Chen, save me”—even a pampered greenhouse flower would be horrified.
And yet, as she died, Meng Xueru still called out to him:
“If we cannot be together in life, I will remain by your side in death.”
That ghastly face, covered in gore, left the Third Prince so shaken his legs gave out.
He immediately ordered her remains to be ground to ash and scattered in the river, wanting the nightmare to end once and for all.
But even so, he was soon burning with fever, and three teams of imperial physicians were summoned in turn.
They all said it was a case of severe shock, damage to the heart and mind.
No one knew that the knife that cut Meng Xueru that night was poisoned, and the Third Prince happened to be infected when he hugged her.
When the mind is weakened by fear and trauma, the poison triggers hallucinations.
Everything... had been calculated down to the last detail.
While he spent his days paranoid and haunted, I hadn’t forgotten his mother either.
Because of the palace attendants’ failure that day—allowing the prince into my inner quarters—I executed several of Zhu Huan’s loyal aides in one sweep.
A bloodstained register of their names was delivered straight to her.
I heard she was so furious, her face turned green.
Her anger made me all the more delighted.
That same night, I sent Meng Xueru’s blood-soaked garments to the Yongyi Marquis Manor:
“The marquis’ household must miss their daughter dearly—this gift should offer them some... remembrance.”
I heard the Marquise was so stricken she spat blood on the spot, and the Yongyi Marquis Manor became an utter mess, the laughingstock of the capital.
Lounging cross-legged, munching on melon seeds, Shen Chong sighed dramatically beside me:
“My son turned out to be such a disgrace. Honestly, I’d feel less ashamed if he were dead.”
I gave him a subtle look, and those words spread throughout the palace like wildfire.
Especially in Weiyang Palace—they heard it most often.
Zhu Huan, sulking in her palace, threw a furious fit.
One of the young consorts who came to pay respects was punished and made to kneel simply because she wore a red rose in her hair.
So much for the noble, virtuous Empress in public—her true nature was starting to show.
But this was only the welcome gift.
The real drama… was yet to come.
16
Shen Chong desperately searched for traces of Yun Tang in me, clinging to the fearlessness I carried. He practically lived in my Guanju Palace.
His favor, his partiality, his attention—all were given to me.
In moments of passion, he would bite at my ear and whisper her name, Yun Tang.
I turned his jaw toward me, forcing him to see my face clearly.
“I am Ru Fei, the orphaned A'Ru.”
He pressed his forehead to mine and gave a self-mocking laugh.
“Yes… she was never as obedient as you. When Zhu Huan dared to call her a traitor, she slapped her across the face right in front of me.”
I was never that willful.
That slap—was because Zhu Huan pointed at my swollen belly, smiling sweetly as her fangs tore into me:
“You’ve killed so many. Don’t tell me you think there won’t be retribution on your son. So what if you’re pregnant? Who knows if it’ll survive? Even if it’s born, who knows what it’ll turn out to be?”
The consequence of that slap was the Empress ordering me to kneel for half a day—and I lost the child. (T/N: Refers to the current Empress Dowager, not Zhu Huan.)
Only much later did I learn that when she danced up to me that day, she was already carrying a blood-activating medicine on her.
From the start, her aim had been to make me miscarry.
My son died in her schemes—so her son would never know peace.
No matter how tightly she tried to protect him, in the end, he was ruined by my hand.
I gazed at Shen Chong’s sharp brows and eyes, but I could no longer find a trace of the man he once was.
“And her? Where did she go?”
Shen Chong’s body tensed. Without a word, he slid his hand out from under my pillow, turned his back to me, and said indifferently:
“It’s late. Sleep.”
But I couldn’t sleep.
I was thinking of my little brother.
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Glossary: Imperial Consort Ranks
1. 皇后 (Huáng Hòu) – Empress: Highest-ranking woman in the palace. The emperor’s principal wife.
2. 皇贵妃 (Huáng Guì Fēi) – Imperial Noble Consort: Just below the Empress. Holds immense power.
3. 贵妃 (Guì Fēi) – Noble Consort: High-ranking consort, often deeply favored.
4. 妃 (Fēi) – Consort: Mid-high rank, respected but not top-tier.
5. 嫔 (Pín) – Concubine / Pín: Middle rank. Still respected, but below a fēi.
6. 贵人 (Guì Rén) – Noble Lady: A lower-ranking consort, often newly favored.
7. 美人 (Měi Rén) – Beauty: Below Guì Rén. Often young or newly selected women.
8. 常在 (Cháng Zài) – Attendant / Constant Presence: Low rank, rarely sees the emperor.
9. 答应 (Dā Yìng) – Obedient One / Servant Concubine: Lowest rank. Mostly serves without favor.
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