Nine dragons fight for the throne, I don't want to sit on this throne

The March wind swept across the palace walls, carrying the last trace of chill, but the crabapple trees in the imperial garden were already impatiently blooming with little bits of crimson.

Chu Ning stood on the white marble steps outside the Purple Palace, looking at the palaces in the distance. The bright yellow dragon robe was particularly eye-catching in the sunlight.

As soon as the ministers left, the late emperor's temple name and posthumous title had been decided - Emperor Gaozong, a title that both highlighted his achievements and was humble.

"Your Majesty, all the gentlemen have withdrawn. Next, shall we go to the Queen or Noble Concubine Lan?"

The personal eunuch bowed and reminded him, his voice very low, as if he was afraid of disturbing the tranquility of late spring.

Chu Ning withdrew his gaze, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the jade pendant on his waist.

"How are the preparations going on with the two queens?"

"Your Majesty, Empress Shen is currently counting her belongings at Changqiu Palace, while Empress Wu is dispatching personnel from the Shanggong Bureau."

Chu Ning nodded slightly, turned and walked towards Lanxin Palace.

The eunuch understood and immediately signaled the procession to turn around, and eight eunuchs led the way silently.

In front of the Lanxin Palace, two magnolias are in full bloom, and the sunlight casts a layer of silver on the white petals.

When the palace maid guarding the gate saw the emperor coming, she knelt down in a hurry to salute, but Chu Ning raised her hand to stop her.

"Has Concubine Lan rested?"

"Your Majesty, the Queen has just finished breakfast and is coaxing the Second Prince in the inner chamber."

Chu Ning's mouth corners unconsciously rose, and he strode across the front hall.

The Lanxin Palace was filled with a faint aroma of medicine and frankincense, and the gilded incense burner was burning with calming agarwood incense. The curtains were replaced with soft lilac-colored gauze suitable for postpartum women.

Turning around the twelve rosewood carved screens, he saw Feng Mulan half-leaning on a lacquered and gilded bed. She had a light green outer coat loosely draped over her plain white middle garment, and her long black hair was untied, hanging down on her shoulders like a waterfall.

"His Majesty?"

Feng Mulan looked up when she heard the voice, a hint of surprise flashed in her almond-shaped eyes. She was about to stand up and salute when Chu Ning quickly stepped forward and held her shoulder.

"Lie down and don't move."

Chu Ning sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on her still pale face. "How are you feeling today? Did you take the medicine prescribed by the imperial physician on time?"

Feng Mulan smiled slightly, with fine lines forming at the corners of her eyes. "I am not made of porcelain, so why do I need Your Majesty to ask me every day?"

Chu Ning frowned and reached out to straighten her collar.

The skin his fingertips touched was slightly cool, which made his heart tighten.

"Today I have designated the late emperor's temple name as Gaozong, and the funeral will be held in three days." He paused and said, "You don't have to go."

"How can this be done!"

Feng Mulan straightened up suddenly, but because she moved so quickly her vision went dark, and she had to hold onto the bedpost.

"As a noble concubine, if I don't attend the late emperor's funeral, what will the court and the people say?"

"I said I won't go, so I won't go."

Chu Ning's tone suddenly hardened, his imperial majesty inadvertently revealed: "You've only been pregnant for half a month, and you haven't even completed your confinement period. If you catch a cold on the way..."

He stopped talking here and turned his head to look at the shadow of the magnolia tree outside the window: "I have asked the Ministry of Rites to record it and exempt Concubine Lan from attending the funeral."

Feng Mulan stared blankly at her husband's tense profile, and suddenly understood.

She reached out and gently tugged at Chu Ning's sleeve, her voice softening: "Your Majesty is afraid that I will be like the last time I gave birth to Ying'er..."

"That's enough!" Chu Ning interrupted harshly, but he became deflated when he turned around and met her smiling eyes.

He sighed deeply and held her hand in his palm: "Last time you had a difficult birth, I..."

His Adam's apple rolled and he stopped talking.

The inner room was silent for a moment, with only the sound of dripping water being clearly audible.

Suddenly, there was a slight noise coming from the rosewood cradle in the corner, followed by the loud cry of a baby.

Feng Mulan wanted to stand up reflexively, but was held down by Chu Ning.

"I'm coming."

He strode to the cradle and carefully picked up the baby in the cradle with clumsy movements.

The second prince, Chu Ying, cried so hard that his face turned red. He waved his pink fists and twisted like a live fish in his father's arms.

"Wow, this kid is quite strong."

Chu Ning laughed, and gently brushed the baby's delicate face with his fingertips: "You're crying like this, I'm afraid you're hungry."

Feng Mulan had already lifted her clothes and reached out to take the child.

Chu Ning was about to avoid her, but he saw that she had calmly brought the child to her chest.

In the candlelight, her expression as she lowered her eyes to breastfeed was as holy as a painting, her long eyelashes cast a shadow under her eyes, and there was a faint smile at the corner of her lips.

Chu Ning frowned: "Why are you still feeding her? Didn't I ask the wet nurse to..."

"I told you last time!"

Feng Mulan didn't even look up, her voice filled with unquestionable determination: "This child is my flesh and blood. I must raise him myself."

"Nonsense!"

Chu Ning paced back and forth in front of the bed, the hem of his dragon robe rustling across the carpet. "How can a prince, a prince, be raised by his own mother? Throughout the dynasties..."

Feng Mulan raised her eyes, a cunning light flashing in them: "Others are others, and I am my concubine."

Chu Ning was speechless and stared at her for a long time. Finally, he shook his head helplessly and smiled: "You have such a big mouth."

He sat down on the bed and reached out to brush away the scattered hair on her forehead: "I can't do anything with you."

Feng Mulan took the opportunity to say, "What about the funeral..."

"Don't even think about it."

Chu Ning immediately frowned, but softened his tone when he saw her disappointed expression: "Just ask your father to burn more paper money. You can just stay in the palace with Ying'er and don't think about leaving the palace."

Feng Mulan knew that this was the final concession, so she sighed and nodded.

The baby in her arms has stopped sucking, and her little face is tilted contentedly in her arms, with tears still hanging on her long eyelashes.

Chu Ning couldn't help but reach out to touch the child's soft cheek, but the little guy unconsciously grabbed his finger.

“It’s really powerful.”

He chuckled, his eyes moving between his wife and children, his stern brows softening: "My eyes look like yours."

Feng Mulan chuckled: "The nose and mouth look very much like your Majesty."

She paused, her voice lowered, "If the late emperor were still alive, he would surely be pleased to see his grandson so healthy."

Chu Ning's expression froze, and then he sighed.

At this time, the baby in Feng Mulan's arms had already fallen asleep, with its little mouth still sucking.

Chu Ning gently put the child back into the cradle and turned around to see Feng Mulan also drowsy.

"Go to sleep." He tucked the quilt in for her. "I'll come see you tomorrow."

At the same time, the lights in Changqiu Palace were bright.

Shen Wanying sat at the desk with a long list spread out in front of her.

She was dressed in plain white mourning clothes with only a silver hairpin in her hair, but her graceful demeanor could not be concealed.

"The three hundred rolls of brocade must be replaced with plain ones, and all the gold embroidery must be removed."

She pointed at a line of text and instructed the female official beside her, "The late emperor advocated frugality. The funeral procession does not need to be overly ornate, but the etiquette must be thorough."

"Yes, ma'am."

The female official respectfully recorded: "The Shangfu Bureau has prepared a thousand sets of mourning clothes, but the shoes for the accompanying palace maids are..."

"Two pairs of soft-soled boots per person, for a thirty-mile mountain walk."

Shen Wanying rubbed her temples and said, "Add another 30% to the dry food prepared by the imperial kitchen. In case of rain on the way, we'll be delayed..."

She suddenly stopped and looked outside the hall: "Sister Wu is here."

Wu Zhao strode in, wearing a black tights with a linen robe over it, her hair tied up in a high bun.

She gave Shen Wanying a cursory bow and got straight to the point: "The imperial guards have been arranged, with posts every three miles along the route. However, I am worried that the funeral procession will be too long, so I suggest that the palace servants be divided into three groups, each leaving half an hour apart."

Shen Wanying frowned slightly: "This is not in accordance with etiquette..."

"Is etiquette more important or safety more important?"

Wu Zhao raised an eyebrow and said, "Tens of thousands of people traveling at the same time, if a stampede occurs, it will definitely cause unrest."

She suddenly lowered her voice: "Besides, the new emperor has only been on the throne for a short time, so there is no guarantee that there won't be people with ill intentions."

Shen Wanying was silent for a moment, then finally nodded: "As you say, sister, but the princes and nobles of the royal family must accompany the first group. This is the bottom line."

Wu Zhao readily agreed, then pulled out a map from her bosom and spread it out. "This is the route I planned. It avoids several mountain valleys prone to ambushes. In addition..."

She pointed to the southwest corner of the imperial mausoleum and said, "We've set up a temporary tent here. If any of the women become exhausted, they can rest for a while."

Shen Wanying examined it carefully and couldn't help but admire: "Sister, you are so thoughtful."

She looked up and met Wu Zhao's bright eyes, and they smiled at each other.

At this special moment, the queen and the vice queen reached a rare consensus.