General, you should rest now; the lady is even more ruthless.

"General, I'm not dead yet! Would you be willing to give me this gun now?"

As he said that, Gong Yuan tightened his grip on Shen Luo's hand, as if afraid that Shen Luo would change his mind.

Jiang Qiqi: "?"

Shen Luo: "...Yes, take it now, don't wait to die."

Jiang Qiqi: "?"

Gong Yuan was deeply moved: "That's wonderful! Now I can personally place it in my grave. Not only in the grave, but in the coffin, so it can share my bed!"

Jiang Qiqi: "?"

Shen Luo: "......"

Gong Yuan left, but before he left, he repeatedly reminded Shen Luo—

Don't forget the competition tomorrow.

Gong Yuan was naturally aware of Shen Luo's leg condition and deeply regretted it. He then immediately began practicing archery, a skill that did not require the use of legs.

No matter what the competition is, he must beat Shen Luo at least once!

Three years ago, he "mistakenly" lost to Shen Luo because he was using a spear that could be found anywhere in a blacksmith's shop, while Shen Luo was using the "white-tasseled spear" that he was holding now.

However, given the vast difference in weaponry, he has reason to deny the previous outcome.

This time, after three years of hard work and preparation, he has made a triumphant return!

He carried with him a bow and arrows that he had specially commissioned to be made.

This time he vowed to take back everything he had lost!

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.

However, the martial arts competition that Gong Yuan had been eagerly anticipating never arrived. That very night, a major event occurred in the capital—

The Second Prince's wife, who is six months pregnant and about to give birth, has disappeared from the mansion!

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.

Before dawn, Jiang Qiqi heard the rustling sounds of people getting up.

She opened her eyes and found that Shen Luo had gotten up and was getting dressed.

"What's going on? What happened?"

Jiang Qiqi glanced at the sky outside; she had already learned to judge the time by the sky.

It's summer now, so it gets light early. It's still dark, so the latest it can be is no later than 3 AM.

"Yes, something happened."

Shen Luo was in a hurry, and her dressing was inevitably rushed, which unexpectedly woke up Qi Qi next to her.

He felt a little guilty: "Sorry, I woke you up."

Jiang Qiqi shook her head: "No, I woke up on my own."

Shen Luo dressed in the dark without even lighting a candle.

She got up and opened the window, and the soft moonlight, along with the evening breeze, seeped into the room.

Jiang Qiqi didn't light any candles, but instead helped Shen Luo put on his clothes by the moonlight—like a real wife.

In the dim moonlight, Jiang Qiqi couldn't quite place the buttons, and her fingers inevitably brushed against Shen Luo's body as she fumbled around.

She clearly felt his body stiffen.

"Qiqi..." Shen Luo's throat moved slightly as he gently took her hand.

"You don't need to worry, go back to sleep for a while."

Shen Luo's mind was completely occupied with the cool touch of Qi Qi's slender fingers tracing across his chest, rather than anything else.

"What's the important matter?" Jiang Qiqi asked.

Shen Luo hesitated for a moment, then said, "The Second Prince's Consort has gone missing."

Jiang Qiqi paused, "Who did it? The Third Prince or Jiang Qianzhong?"

Shen Luo smiled at her but didn't say anything.

Jiang Qiqi understood what he meant and smiled.

"Jiang Qianzhong, right?"

Shen Luo gently touched her hair—just gently! He didn't mess up her hairstyle.

"Qiqi, sometimes your intelligence amazes me."

With just one expression, she understood what he meant.

"Fortunately, we captured those two experts from Beiming and replaced them with our own men. Jiang Qianzhong ordered them to bring the Second Prince's Consort here."

"How dare he! What is he planning to do?"

Shen Luo shook his head; he didn't understand what Jiang Qianzhong meant either.

Although the Second Prince and the Third Prince have been constantly vying for power in recent years, they have never had such a large-scale direct confrontation.

Moreover, even if there were a direct confrontation, it shouldn't be Jiang Qianzhong, the Minister of Revenue, who should be the catalyst. The Third Prince probably wouldn't want him to do it either.

"Jiang Qianzhong must have been acting behind the Third Prince's back, right?" Jiang Qiqi said.

“He has connections with the Northern Ming people, so he certainly wouldn’t dare to publicize this.”

Shen Luo also agreed.

"Then what is the meaning of kidnapping the Second Prince's wife, who is about to give birth, at the risk of exposing their secret dealings with the enemy country?" Jiang Qiqi couldn't understand.

Seeing the other person's face scrunched up, Shen Luo suddenly laughed.

He gently pressed his hand between her eyebrows: "Okay, Qiqi."

Jiang Qiqi was taken aback.

"You just want to come with me to take a look, right? Let's go."

He kept watching silently.

Jiang Qiqi naturally wanted him to take her along, but Shen Luo usually wouldn't take her with him on such occasions.

"Hehe," Jiang Qiqi chuckled, scratching her head, "You found out."

Shen Luo's heart skipped a beat; Qi Qi rarely showed such a playful side.

He coughed lightly twice, looked away, and concealed his lapse in composure.

"You disguise yourself as Thirteen and come with me."

……

They split into two groups.

Shen Luo and Nineteen went to the palace first, while Jiang Qiqi and Sixteen went to the Second Prince's residence to find out what was going on.

As for Twelve, of course, we will continue to follow Jiang Qianzhong.

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 prince knelt on the ground, while the third prince stood to one side.

The emperor, leaning against a high pillow on his dragon bed, breathed heavily as a palace maid stood beside him, feeding him medicine spoonful by spoonful.

The emperor was furious when his pregnant princess was kidnapped from her residence.

That was not only the second prince's first child, but also his first grandson. This villain's actions were simply humiliating to the imperial family.

"Your Majesty, the General Who Guards the Nation is requesting an audience outside the palace," a eunuch announced as he entered.

The Emperor clicked his tongue in annoyance and said irritably, "Why bother announcing anything? Just let him in."

Shen Luo was pushed into the room by the guards: "Greetings, Your Majesty, greetings, Your Highnesses."

The emperor waved his hand, and the palace maid who was feeding the medicine bowed and left.

"Shen Luo, I heard that Xiao Wu went to your residence to borrow personal guards yesterday?" The Emperor's tone was flat, and his face showed no emotion.

Shen Luo answered truthfully, "Yes."

The Emperor continued, "Did he say what he intended to do with it?"

Shen Luo replied, "His Highness said he received a letter saying that someone wanted to harm the Crown Princess. And since the Crown Princess is about to give birth, His Highness asked me to borrow some personal guards to guard the area around the residence in order to ensure that nothing goes wrong."

Chen Chengfeng gave an inappropriate snort.

"If we need to take precautions, we can just go to the Prefect of the Capital to mobilize troops. That would be much more powerful than the General's Mansion."

But now that Chen Chengfeng has put it this way, who can't understand?

He was implying that Chen Chengwu was secretly gathering troops and plotting a rebellion!

Shen Luo looked up to observe the Emperor and saw that he gradually sat up straight, his face revealing an unconcealable gloom and coldness.

“What Feng’er said makes sense. Why don’t you go and find the Prefect of the Capital?”

The emperor spoke in a question, but there was no hint of inquiry in his tone.

Chen Chengwu, who was already in a bad mood, almost lost his temper when he heard this.

Everyone in the court knows that the person on the throne has a history they are unwilling to mention.

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.

In the first month of the seventeenth year of Jianzong, the late emperor, along with the empress, the crown prince, and others, went to the Temple of Heaven to pray for good weather and a peaceful and prosperous life for the people of Mount Heng in the coming year.

The prayer ceremony lasted all day. When the late emperor and his entourage dragged their tired bodies back to the palace, all they could think about was resting. No one noticed that the palace that day was very different from usual.

The current emperor, who was then still the Prince of Yuan, had been waiting for this day for a long time.

"Your Highness, once they leave the palace, we will occupy the palace and seize their waist tokens. By then, they will have already left the capital, and our men will take over the capital's troops," said Lü Yixing. At that time, Lü Chengxiang was only a third-rank official.

There was no unease on the face of the Prince Yuan, not even a trace of anxiety.

He gazed at the vast night, his eyes gleaming with a red light, his face filled with ambition, ruthlessness, and an unwavering confidence.

"My incompetent and useless elder brother is not worthy of being the crown prince. The world should be ruled by the capable."

Lu Yixing chuckled and agreed, "Our Nanyue has been in decline for decades, and even Beiming next door dares to covet us. After Your Highness ascends the throne, we must teach them a lesson."

"Of course." Prince Yuan's expression was arrogant. "Father is old and hesitant in his actions. Once I have the throne, I will definitely carry out sweeping reforms!"

......

In the hundreds of years since the founding of the Nanyue Kingdom, there had never been such a large-scale civil war, which the historical records refer to as the "January Coup".

In that massive coup, the late emperor, empress, and crown prince all died, and Prince Yuan seized the throne with the help of his mother and Lü Yixing.

Three days later, King Yuan ascended the throne.

He honored his birth mother as Empress Dowager and promoted Lü Yixing to Prime Minister.

The country's name was changed to "Wuyun" (武运).

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.