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Historically, the relationship between Emperor Renzong of Song, Zhao Zhen, and Empress Cao was always shrouded in a subtle distance, and the two never consummated their marriage. They were more like partners who managed the country side by side, even carrying a "close friendship" that went beyond that of ordinary emperors and empresses—they were perfectly in sync in discussing state affairs and supported each other in coordinating matters in the harem, but they lacked the tender affection between ordinary couples.

Zhang Maoze was Zhao Zhen's most trusted advisor in his early years, and was promoted and given important responsibilities by Zhao Zhen. Later, he was entrusted with the important task of handling many affairs of the inner palace. As a result, he had more opportunities to come into contact with Empress Cao, the head of the six palaces. From their initial official exchanges to the tacit understanding that gradually developed amidst the complexities of daily affairs, Zhang Maoze gradually developed feelings for this dignified, intelligent, and responsible empress. This feeling was not one of disrespect, but rather an appreciation and concern that grew from their long-term interaction; it could be described as love blossoming over time.

Empress Cao, being exceptionally intelligent, was certainly aware of the unusual attention Zhang Maoze held in his eyes. However, as the empress, she bore the heavy responsibility of maintaining stability in the harem and assisting the emperor. Her status and the constraints of etiquette acted like invisible shackles, dictating that she could not overstep them in the slightest. Therefore, she always maintained a dignified and proper demeanor, quietly suppressing the possible unusual feeling within her heart, and preserving a facade of peace and aloofness.

Later, when Zhang Maoze took charge of the Imperial Medical Academy, an intriguing phenomenon gradually emerged: in the harem, almost every time a concubine became pregnant, she gave birth to a son. It's important to understand that traditional Chinese medicine's pulse diagnosis is a profound art, possessing a unique ability to discern the condition of a fetus. Therefore, many people believed that since Emperor Zhao Zhen never had a male heir to inherit the throne, Zhang Maoze, as the head of the Imperial Medical Academy, was particularly suspicious of tampering with the pregnancy.

This explains why historical records state that when Emperor Zhao Zhen suffered a stroke, he indiscriminately shouted that Empress Cao and Zhang Maoze were "plotting rebellion." Perhaps Zhao Zhen was already aware of the subtle, unspoken relationship between the two, but he couldn't reveal such a palace secret to the public out of consideration for the imperial family's reputation. Furthermore, Zhang Maoze was ultimately a eunuch; in the eyes of the world, a "rootless person," even if he had the will, was unlikely to cause significant trouble in the harem. Therefore, even though Zhao Zhen harbored some resentment, he ultimately didn't pursue the matter further, burying these complex thoughts deep within his heart, letting them settle over time until they were revealed in his delirium during a stroke.

After saying those words, Jin Shuai ignored Zhang Maoze beside him and leaned against the carriage wall with his eyes closed. In his view, the entanglement between Zhang Maoze and Empress Cao was exactly the kind of melodramatic plot often seen in later palace dramas—a eunuch with a special status, harboring humble yet persistent feelings, entrusting his affections to the high and mighty Empress, and no matter how deep his love was, he could not escape the ending of unrequited love.

He pondered to himself: Regardless of their vastly different social statuses, considering the constraints of ancient times, an empress, burdened with the honor and disgrace of her family and the heavy responsibilities of the court, how could she possibly abandon the lives of her entire clan for a fleeting, intangible affection, to fall in love with a person with a disability? It was simply a fantasy. Not to mention in this rigidly hierarchical feudal dynasty, even in the relatively more open-minded later generations, such a relationship would most likely end in failure, leaving only a sigh of regret.

The silence in the carriage continued to spread. Jin Shuai didn't want to think about this palace secret any longer, only hoping to return to his residence as soon as possible to sort out the more pressing situation. Zhang Maoze, on the other hand, kept his head down, the candlelight in the carriage casting dappled shadows on his face, obscuring his expression. Only his tightly pursed lips betrayed the unspeakable bitterness in his heart.

Jin Shuai's eyes lingered on Zhang Maoze out of the corner of his eye. Seeing his dejected and distraught appearance, as if the sky had fallen, Jin Shuai felt an inexplicable urge to laugh.

He thought to himself: Do you really think Empress Cao has any genuine feelings for you? In the end, you're nothing more than a pitiful tool that's been used and discarded.

In her youth, Empress Cao's fervor for Emperor Zhao Zhen was bordering on obsessive. She was a devoted fan, her heart completely set on this talented emperor. She willingly managed the harem for him, wholeheartedly devoted herself to him, and her eyes were filled with admiration. However, things didn't go as planned. Zhao Zhen always only respected her, without a trace of romantic love. Over time, her affections became distorted.

As the saying goes, the deeper the love, the deeper the hate. This passionate love gradually cooled and deteriorated under prolonged neglect, eventually settling into an unyielding resentment. How could she bear the pain of unrequited love and watch Zhao Zhen live peacefully with another woman? Just when she was struggling to find a suitable way to vent her frustration, you, this devoted "simp," happened to stumble upon her. The key point is that you were completely unaware of this, and your self-righteous affection was nothing more than an opportunity to be exploited by others.

How could a woman born into a prestigious family, raised in the inner quarters of a grand mansion, not understand the intrigues and power struggles within the inner court? Those seemingly subtle calculations often conceal bloody battles and sacrifices. But you, blinded by your own self-righteous "love-struck" mind, have fallen step by step into a meticulously crafted trap, still basking in your own self-satisfaction, and haven't even grasped your predicament yet.

Jin Shuai didn't expose the truth simply because he wanted Zhang Maoze to continue living in his own fabricated fantasy world. At least that illusory "deep affection" allowed him to find some self-satisfaction and comfort, which could be considered a form of "happiness."

The night outside the carriage grew darker, and the monotonous clatter of hooves on the road seemed to provide accompaniment to this secret affair that no one knew.

The following morning, as dawn broke, the turmoil that had unfolded within the palace walls the previous night, though not widely known, could not be kept secret from the ministers who had cultivated their influence in the court for many years. Their spies planted within the palace had already sent back scattered news, but no one dared to speak out easily, only speculating in private.

Soon, an official message quietly spread: the King of Goryeo entered the palace late at night and, by imperial decree, executed Zhang Maoze, the head of the Imperial Medical Academy. At the same time, the Emperor, due to illness, suspended the morning court session. While the court appeared calm on the surface, undercurrents were stirring, and many felt that something was amiss.

Inside the Crown Prince's residence, Zhao Zongshi sat upright in his study, his fingertips lightly tapping the desk, his brow slightly furrowed. He pondered this sudden turn of events, his mind filled with doubts. Who was Zhang Maoze? He was someone who had grown up alongside the Emperor since childhood, one of Zhao Zhen's most trusted eunuchs. How could he be executed without warning on trumped-up charges? The reasons behind this seemed far-fetched.

He pondered deeply, but couldn't find a solution. However, this doubt didn't linger in his mind for long. After all, he knew that once he ascended the throne, the court would inevitably be replaced with a group of people he trusted. Zhang Maoze, as a former official of the previous dynasty and deeply trusted by the emperor, was bound to be removed sooner or later. This outcome, in fact, saved him some trouble, so it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Right now, for Zhao Zongshi, the most important thing is not to investigate Zhang Maoze's death, but to wait patiently. What he needs to do is to stabilize his position as crown prince, quietly wait until Zhao Zhen is exhausted, and then naturally inherit the throne and take control of the Song Dynasty.

Thinking of this, a barely perceptible sharpness flashed in Zhao Zongshi's eyes, but he quickly regained his usual composure. He picked up the teacup on the table, took a small sip, as if the turmoil of last night had nothing to do with him, leaving only his certainty and planning for the future.

Inside the study of the Jin residence, morning light streamed through the carved wooden window, casting dappled shadows on the floor. Hua Lan carried in a steaming plate of breakfast, tiptoeing in and placing the tray gently on the corner of the desk. Looking at Jin Shuai, who was resting on the desk, she softly asked, "Why did you rest here last night, my lord? I've warmed the bed for you."

Jin Shuai looked up at the sound, his face still showing some weariness. He rubbed his temples, picked up the bowl of hot porridge, scooped a spoonful into his mouth, and slowly said, "It was already late at night when I came back. I thought you were all sound asleep, so I didn't want to disturb you and spent the night here."

Hua Lan picked up a handkerchief from the side and gently wiped the corner of his mouth, her eyes full of concern: "Judging from your appearance, something must have happened in the palace, otherwise why would they have summoned you to the palace in such a hurry?"

Jin Shuai put down his porridge bowl, his expression darkening. He shook his head and said, "His Majesty's old ailment has flared up again. He was delirious at night and even claimed that Empress Cao and Zhang Yuanshi were plotting a rebellion, causing chaos in the palace."

"Ah? How could this be!" Hua Lan exclaimed in surprise, her eyes filled with disbelief. "The Emperor is always dignified and composed, and Zhang Yuanshi is the Emperor's closest confidant. How could he do such a thing?"

“Things have gone wrong, and the reasons are unclear for the time being.” Jin Shuai sighed, his tone becoming serious. “I have secretly brought Zhang Yuanshi out of the palace and told the outside world that he had been executed, which has temporarily stabilized the situation. But the Emperor’s health… I’m afraid he won’t last much longer. During the transition of power between the old and new emperors, there will definitely be undercurrents of turmoil in the capital, and there may be great chaos. It is too dangerous for us to stay here. It would be better to return to our fiefdom as soon as possible.”

He paused, looked at Hua Lan, his eyes filled with worry, yet also with determination: "But these are extraordinary times. As a close advisor to the emperor and a prince with military power, my every move is being watched by countless eyes. Any slight deviation will arouse suspicion. I really cannot arrange the evacuation myself. Therefore, the important task of a secret evacuation can only be entrusted to you, my lady. There are secret passages prepared at the farm, which will allow us to leave Tokyo without anyone noticing."

Hua Lan's heart clenched as she listened. She gripped her handkerchief tightly, her voice trembling slightly, "My lord, we've always been at odds with the Crown Prince. If he really ascends the throne, how could he possibly tolerate us? If we all leave, leaving you alone in this dangerous place, wouldn't that be even more perilous?"

Seeing her worried expression, Jin Shuai smiled, a sharp glint in his eyes: "Hehe, don't worry. With you not in the capital, I have no worries and can act more freely. If he knows what's good for him, fine. But if he dares to have any ulterior motives towards me, he might not be able to sit securely on the throne." His words weren't harsh, but they carried an undeniable confidence, as if he had already foreseen the dangers ahead.

Hua Lan gazed at his composed profile, her unease gradually subsiding. She knew that Commander Jin was not one to speak carelessly; if he had said this, he must have a plan. She nodded firmly, her tone resolute: "Rest assured, my lord, my sisters and I will arrange everything perfectly, ensuring the children arrive safely at our fiefdom. We will await your arrival to join us."

Hua Lan acted quickly. She first urged the women to discuss solutions, and soon the women began to divide the work and secretly evacuate using a diversion. Jin Shuai then stopped all external military operations and ordered the troops to remain stationed in their respective areas. Any military operations could only be carried out within their own defense zones, otherwise they would be subject to military law.

That day, the study in the Crown Prince's residence was quiet and still, with only wisps of smoke rising from the incense burner slowly drifting in the air. Zhao Shuo strode in and bowed to Zhao Zongshi, who was deep in thought by the window, and reported: "Father, Gu Tingye has hidden himself properly in a secluded village twenty miles outside the capital, as instructed. There are people watching all around, so there will be no mishaps."

Zhao Zongshi slowly turned around, his gaze deep. Upon hearing this, he simply gave a faint "hmm," his tone revealing little emotion: "Alright. Hopefully... we won't need him this time." He knew in his heart that Gu Tingye was a double-edged sword, and he really didn't want to use this pawn unless absolutely necessary.

Zhao Shuo was somewhat puzzled and frowned slightly, saying, "Father, you are the rightful heir apparent and the legitimate successor of the Song Dynasty. Is there anyone who would dare to defy the world and commit treason?" In his view, his father's succession was a matter of course, and even if others had ulterior motives, they would not dare to openly disobey.

Zhao Zongshi shook his head, a trace of worry flashing across his face. He said in a deep voice, "We must be on guard. The Emperor has not held morning court for more than ten days. News from the palace says that his condition is extremely critical. He has fainted several times a day and has long been bedridden. I'm afraid... his days are numbered." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the window, as if he could see through the palace walls and see those restless figures. "Those collateral relatives, seeing this situation, have already become restless and have probably begun to act in secret." The transition of imperial power is always the most turbulent time, and even as the designated crown prince, he dares not be the slightest bit negligent.

A few days later, on a bright and sunny day with clear skies, sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the stone path in front of the Jin residence. Suddenly, the sound of rapid hoofbeats approached from afar. Liao Zi rode up hurriedly, dismounted in front of the Jin residence, and without even catching his breath, strode towards the study.

Inside the study, Jin Shuai was staring intently at a map when Liao Zi entered. His gaze immediately fell on Liao Zi's face—Liao Zi's eyes were red, his expression sorrowful, and his brows furrowed with barely concealed anxiety. Jin Shuai's heart skipped a beat, and he instantly understood: Zhao Zhen was likely nearing his end.

Without asking any further questions, he stood up, straightened his robes, and headed outside. Just before boarding the carriage, he suddenly stopped, turned to look at Hua Lan standing under the eaves, and said in a calm tone as if he were talking about something ordinary: "The sun is shining brightly today. Why don't you take the children to the farm? The scenery there is lovely, and let them get some fresh air."

Hua Lan's heart tightened suddenly. Those seemingly casual words sounded like a thunderclap to her. She knew Jin Shuai too well; asking her to take the children to the farm at this time was clearly a signal—it was time. She suppressed the turmoil in her heart, her face showing no sign of distress. She simply nodded obediently and softly replied, "Okay, I understand." Deep in her eyes, however, tears welled up, a mixture of reluctance to part and worry about the unknown road ahead.

The carriage slowly drove away from the Jin residence, heading towards the palace. The sound of the wheels rolling over the road seemed particularly heavy in the bright daylight. Hua Lan stood there, watching the direction the carriage disappeared in. After a moment, she took a deep breath, turned around, and walked towards the inner courtyard—it was time to prepare; their evacuation had to be foolproof.