The Sickly Regent Prince Who Was Abandoned as a Substitute Bride

Li Zhongzheng leaned against a withered tree, panting heavily. Iron ruler was used as a support in the snow, helping him to maintain his precarious posture. The front of his cotton-padded coat was soaked with blood and stiffened. Xiao Ma sat on the snow, still tightly protecting his bundle in his arms. Blood seeped from the wound on the back of his neck, dripping down his collar. Old Zhou knelt on the ground, pressing snow blocks against the wound on his left arm. His face was as pale as the snow on the ground.

"General." Li Zhong struggled to stand up as Zhao Xuan approached, his voice hoarse as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper, "The package... is still here."

Zhao Xuan quickly stepped forward to support him, his gaze falling on the bundle in Xiao Ma's arms. The cotton cloth was blackened by bloodstains, but the gilded patterns on the edges were still conspicuous. When he reached out and took it, he felt the bundle was heavy, not only containing important items but also bearing the weight of his brothers' blood and sweat. His fingertips touched the warmth of the cotton cloth, and looking at the three wounded men before him, his throat suddenly tightened, and his eyes even felt hot.

“Brothers,” Zhao Xuan’s voice was a few decibels lower than usual, but with an indescribable solemnity, “you have all worked hard.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over the wounds on the three men, “This time… it’s all thanks to you for risking your lives to protect us.”

"General, what are you saying?" Old Zhou wiped the snow off his face with his uninjured right hand, his grin revealing the wound at the corner of his mouth. "Protecting the package is our duty."

Xiao Ma nodded in agreement, his lips, which were purple from the cold, twitching slightly: "As long as the package is alright... this little injury is nothing."

Li Zhong patted Zhao Xuan's arm, and the iron ruler paused in the snow: "Now is not the time to talk about this. It's more important to meet up with General Zhang first."

Zhao Xuan took a deep breath, carefully tied the package around his waist, bent down to help Old Zhou up, and said to everyone, "Let's go back to camp."

The snowstorm gradually subsided, and a faint glimmer of light appeared on the horizon. Zhao Xuan led Li Zhong and the other two towards the cavalry unit. Zhang Wu had already reined in his horse and was waiting for them; the bloodstains on his black armor were particularly glaring in the snow. When the two groups met, the cavalrymen were binding the captured men in black together in a string, and the weapons and black robes scattered on the ground were piled up like a small mountain.

"Zhao Xuan, are you alright?" Zhang Wu dismounted, patted his shoulder, and looked at his bleeding shoulder.

"It's just a superficial injury, nothing serious." Zhao Xuan shook his head, glancing at the bound men in black. "These people came suspiciously, and their fighting style is quite unfamiliar."

Zhang Wu frowned: "I've been wondering the same thing. Where did all these desperados come from in this desolate wilderness?"

The two men exchanged a glance, both seeing seriousness in each other's eyes. Zhao Xuan subconsciously touched the bundle at his waist; the hard object beneath the cotton cloth pressed against his palm, as if reminding him that this ambush was no accident. A cold wind whistled past his ears, carrying snowflakes. He looked up towards the distant camp, knowing in his heart—although the battle was won, the real trouble might have only just begun. The secret hidden in that bundle was like a boulder thrown into a lake, destined to create even greater ripples.

The column slowly made its way back, the horses' hooves crunching on the snow, the sounds mingling with the occasional groans of wounded soldiers echoing across the vast wilderness. Zhao Xuan walked in the middle of the column, the bundle at his waist swaying gently with each step. He glanced back at the battlefield; the bloodstains on the snow had begun to freeze, gleaming a dark red in the sunlight, like a still-wet, gruesome painting.

As dusk settled, the last rays of the setting sun cast a somber golden-red hue over the sprawling camp. As Zhao Xuan dismounted, the wound on his left arm throbbed with a tearing pain; blood had already soaked through his dark brown battle robe, dripping from his fingertips into the dust, leaving a small, dark stain. Yet he didn't even flinch, his gaze sweeping over the bustling scene in the camp—medics carrying medicine kits moved among the wounded, the crisp sound of tweezers breaking bones, the soldiers' muffled groans of suppressed pain, and the crackling of herbs burning in braziers mingled together, like a heavy net, suffocating him.

"General, your wounds..." came the anxious voice of the army doctor behind him, but Zhao Xuan waved his hand, his voice hoarse from days of fighting: "Check on the brothers first." He tightened his grip on the bundle in his arms. The contents of the rough cloth bag were sharp and angular, and even through the fabric, one could feel a strange sense of oppression. This was what they had found in a heavily guarded box during the raid on the enemy's granary. Three of his personal guards had risked their lives to block an enemy arrow for it. Now, thinking back, the madness in those men's eyes was definitely not for gold and silver.

He lifted the curtain of his tent, the candlelight flickering in the draft, casting his shadow on the tent wall, now bright, now dim. Zhao Xuan closed the tent flap behind him, strode to the table, and placed the package heavily on it. Yesterday's military report lay spread out on the table, the ink blurred by the wind, but he paid no attention to it at the moment, only staring at the tight knot tied on the package—a unique military binding method, but with two extra loops in an inconspicuous corner, clearly tampered with.

He took a deep breath and was about to untie the ropes when suddenly, rapid footsteps sounded outside the tent, so hurried they seemed to be pounding on his heart. "General! General!" The voice of his personal guard, Xiao Li, was filled with panic. Without waiting for a reply, he lifted the curtain and rushed in, his face as white as paper. "The palace... someone from the palace has come! They have an imperial edict ordering you to enter the palace immediately, without a moment's delay!"

Zhao Xuan's hand froze abruptly, his heart clenching as if gripped by something. So fast? From the time he received the package to his return to camp, only an hour had passed. How could the palace have known? Unless… there were spies hidden within the army, and of a caliber capable of reaching the Emperor's ears. He looked up at Xiao Li, whose eyes were filled with genuine panic. "What else did the Emperor say?" he asked in a low voice, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the fabric of the package.

"No... I didn't say much, just that it was urgent and I needed you to take... take important things and set off immediately," Xiao Li stammered, his eyes unconsciously glancing at the package on the table.

Zhao Xuan's heart skipped a beat; so this was it after all. Without further hesitation, he quickly retied the rope, making it even tighter than before. He then untied the jade pendant from his waist and stuffed it into a lining of his bundle—it was a keepsake left to him by his mother; the jade was hard and might offer some protection. "Prepare the horses. Have Captains Zhang, Li, and Wang come with me. The rest of you, guard the camp. No one is to move without my orders." He spoke rapidly, grabbing the cloak hanging by the tent flap and haphazardly tying it over his shoulders to cover his bleeding left arm.

As the four swift horses shot out of the camp like arrows, night had completely fallen. The shadows of the trees lining the official road loomed menacingly, like lurking wild beasts. The horses' hooves shattered the silence of the night. Zhao Xuan led the way, the wind chilling his throat, yet unable to dispel the doubts in his heart. He glanced back at the camp, its lights scattered like lone boats in the darkness. Suddenly, he felt that this journey to the capital might be even more perilous than yesterday's battlefield.

They rode at full speed, covering a journey that normally took three hours, and arrived at the capital city gates in just one and a half hours. The imperial guards seemed to have been prepared, skipping even the initial inspection and letting them pass directly. They walked through the deserted Zhuque Avenue, where the shops on both sides were already closed. Only the Golden Guards on night patrol, carrying lanterns, passed by, their expressions showing surprise and suspicion upon seeing them.

The vermilion gates of the palace stood like a silent behemoth in the night, the stone lions before them staring with empty eyes, as if scrutinizing everyone who entered or left. Zhao Xuan dismounted, handed the reins to a guard, took a deep breath, and, carrying his bundle, stepped onto the white jade steps. Each step felt like walking on cotton, or on a knife's edge; the wound on his left arm began to ache again, but this time it was nothing compared to the heaviness in his heart.

The Qianqing Palace was brightly lit, yet eerily quiet. As Zhao Xuan stepped through the gates, he felt countless gazes pierce him like needles. The Emperor sat high on his dragon throne, his bright yellow robes gleaming coldly in the candlelight. His usually gentle face was now clouded with gloom, his lips tightly pressed together, his eyes sharp as if they could see right through him.

On either side of the dragon throne stood several ministers—on the left was Prime Minister Wang, whose hand stroking his beard trembled slightly; on the right was the Imperial Censor, whose brows were furrowed and whose eyes were full of scrutiny; and in the far corner stood Eunuch Lu, who was in charge of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, with his usual smile on his face, but his eyes were like those of a venomous snake, fixed on the package in Zhao Xuan's hand.

"Your subject, Zhao Xuan, pays his respects to Your Majesty." Zhao Xuan bowed respectfully, his voice steady, trying his best to conceal any unusual behavior.

The Emperor did not tell him to rise. He remained silent for a moment, the air in the hall seeming to freeze. Only when the candle flame flickered and burst did he slowly speak, his voice as cold as ice: "Zhao Xuan, do you know your crime?"

Zhao Xuan's heart sank, but he still kept his head down: "Your Majesty, I do not know. Please enlighten me."

"You don't know?" The Emperor suddenly raised his voice, slamming his hand on the armrest of the dragon throne with a loud clang. "Then what are you holding in your hand? Do you dare say that this isn't something you've been hiding? That you didn't collude with outsiders to get it from the enemy?"

Zhao Xuan looked up abruptly, a flash of shock in his eyes. Colluding with outsiders? The Emperor actually thought that? He took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart: "Your Majesty, please understand! This item was found by me today in the enemy's granary. At that time, thieves fought desperately to seize it, and three of my personal guards died in the process. I had absolutely no intention of keeping it for myself, let alone colluding with them!"

"Hmph, all talk and no action." The Emperor sneered, his gaze sweeping over the ministers beside him before finally settling on Zhao Xuan. "I'm giving you a chance. Open it. Let everyone see what your so-called 'important possession' really is!"

Zhao Xuan's fingers trembled slightly. He could feel everyone's gaze focused on the package, a mixture of suspicion, anticipation, and a deeply hidden...greed. He composed himself, slowly walked forward, and placed the package on the cool gold brick floor. When his fingertips touched the fabric, he felt a slight warmth.

His hands were stiff as he tried to untie the rope; the knot seemed to have grown together. It took him some effort to loosen the rope, and the moment he lifted the coarse cloth, a musty smell wafted out.

Inside was a palm-sized wooden box, dark and heavy, its material unknown. The box was carved with intricate patterns, not in the style of the Central Plains, but rather resembling totems from the Western Regions. The box wasn't locked, just lightly latched. Zhao Xuan hesitated for a moment, then looked up at the Emperor. The Emperor's eyes were cold, signaling him to continue.

He reached out and slowly opened the wooden box.

The next second, Zhao Xuan gasped and took a half step back, crashing into the pillar behind him.

The wooden box contained no gold or silver jewelry, no military tally or secret letters, only a palm-sized jade plaque. The jade was dark in color, with a strange symbol drawn on it in cinnabar. Beside the jade plaque lay a yellowed piece of paper, the handwriting on it messy yet menacing, bearing three large characters—

"The strategy of regicide".

The hall fell into a deathly silence; even the flickering candlelight could be heard clearly. The Emperor's face turned from gloomy to ashen. He abruptly stood up from his dragon throne, the hem of his robe sweeping across the table, causing the teacup on it to crash to the floor and shatter.

"Imperial edict for treason!"

The three words exploded like a thunderclap in the Qianqing Palace, and before the echo had even faded, a huge uproar erupted within the hall. The ministers, who had been holding their breath, instantly burst into chaos, as if a stone had been thrown into a pond. The Minister of Personnel dropped his official tablet with a "thud," his face ashen; the Vice Minister of Revenue stumbled backward, bumping into the incense burner behind him, the bronze burner rolling on the gold bricks with a jarring sound; even the eunuchs, who had been keeping their eyes down, couldn't help but steal glances, their eyes shifting back and forth between Zhao Xuan and the wooden box, their eyes filled with fear and curiosity.

"Silence!" The Emperor slammed his hand on the armrest of his dragon throne, rising to his feet. His bright yellow dragon robe billowed in the air, and the jade belt buckle at his waist clinked dully. He stared down at Zhao Xuan, his eyes blazing with fury. "Zhao Xuan! What do you have to say?!"

Zhao Xuan felt a sudden buzzing in his mind, as if struck by a heavy hammer, leaving his head completely blank. How could this be? He clearly remembered that when he took it out of the enemy's secret box, the box was locked and covered with a thin layer of dust, showing no signs of recent tampering. Yet now, the yellowed scroll lay open in the wooden box, the three characters "King-Killing Strategy" written in vermilion ink twisted and grotesque, the ink seemingly still carrying the scent of blood, stinging the eyes.

"Your Majesty, I..." He was about to speak in his defense when something seemed to block his throat, and his voice became extremely dry.

"Your Majesty!" A shrill voice suddenly pierced the noise in the hall. Eunuch Lu, who was in charge of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, stepped forward with small, hurried steps, a fake smile plastered on his face, but his eyes were icy cold. "In this old servant's opinion, General Zhao probably has nothing to say. The irrefutable evidence of treason is right before our eyes. He secretly possessed such a treasonous item and dared to lie that he obtained it from the enemy. In this old servant's opinion, it is clear that he colluded with foreign enemies, intending to use this item to command rebels and overthrow our dynasty! Such a crime is unforgivable!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than Prime Minister Wang, who was standing to the side, stepped forward to echo him, his white beard trembling with anger: "Eunuch Lu is absolutely right! Zhao Xuan holds a large army, yet he secretly possesses a treasonous edict; his heart is wicked! Your Majesty, he should be arrested immediately, imprisoned in the imperial prison for severe interrogation, and his associates thoroughly investigated to uphold the law and serve as a warning to others!"

"I second the proposal!"

"I also second the proposal!"

Several ministers who were usually at odds with Zhao Xuanzheng spoke up one after another, and for a moment, the hall was filled with voices demanding that he be severely punished. Their gazes were like poisoned needles, piercing him densely, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.