Chapter 2 Entering the Imperial Palace

“Sister Qingluan, have you ever heard of someone named Wu Ling?” Cheng Guang asked again.

Qingluan was surprised by how many questions Cheng Guang had, and she wasn’t sure where he’d heard that name. After thinking carefully, she replied, “Wu Ling seems to be the name of the Thirteenth Princess. She spent many years away from the court and only returned to the palace a year ago, brought back by the Emperor of Great Zhou. Compared to the other princes and princesses, her status is much weaker, and she isn’t valued much.”

After speaking, Qingluan glanced at Cheng Guang. “Rather than worrying about the Great Zhou princess, whom you can’t meet for now, you’d better remember some of the Heir’s friends first.”

Cheng Guang nodded absentmindedly, but his mind was already elsewhere, pondering the details of his mission. The Thirteenth Princess Wu Ling, the future Empress of Great Zhou—her current situation seemed rather poor… Not valued now, yet fated to become Empress in the future. Wu Ling must be extraordinary; her means and strength likely surpassed his own by far.

Now that he knew Wu Ling’s status was so precarious, Cheng Guang felt his mission might finally have some direction. Yet, thinking further, he realized the difficulties were immense. Setting aside other matters, Wu Ling was, after all, a royal princess, living deep within the inner palace of Great Zhou. Even with his current identity as the Heir Apparent of the House That Guards the Nation (albeit a false one), there was no way he could barge into the palace to meet Wu Ling.

What was he to do?

Cheng Guang frowned in distress, feeling he had no initiative in the progress of his mission.

Just then, the steward’s voice sounded from outside the courtyard. “Young master, Madam has returned. She wishes to see you.”

At the house steward Wang’s voice, Qingluan tensed, quickly turning to look outside. “Madam has returned?”

The Madam of the House That Guards the Nation was the current Emperor Wu Shang’s sister. Not long ago, she had left the capital with the Heir’s father, Cheng Zhihai, chief of the Lantern Directorate, to handle affairs.

The Lantern Directorate was an agency in Great Zhou much like the Embroidered Guard, tasked with overseeing officials and handling matters of espionage and intelligence. Its members not only operated within the human realms but were said to be present throughout the Eight Realms of Demons and the Ten Layers of the Demonic Sea.

Cheng Zhihai held an extraordinarily high position in Great Zhou. When he traveled for work, he would sometimes take his wife along, treating the trip as both duty and a honeymoon.

It was during these trips that the Heir would sneak away, leaving Cheng Guang, his stand-in, to handle everything in his stead.

Qingluan’s face paled slightly, her delicate features turning a shade whiter. “Why has Madam returned so early? She’ll see that you’re not the real Heir.”

Cheng Guang turned to her. “What should I do, Sister Qingluan? Should I just hide?”

Qingluan shook her head, immediately rejecting the suggestion. “No, that won’t do. Steward Wang doesn’t know you’re a stand-in. If you suddenly disappear now, there’ll be no way to explain it.”

With that, Qingluan grabbed Cheng Guang and pushed him toward the door. “We’ll just have to take it one step at a time. Your appearance is so similar to the Heir’s—even I can barely tell the difference at first glance. As long as Madam doesn’t use her spiritual sense to probe your body, you should be able to fool her.”

“If this is exposed and the Heir is brought back early, he’ll be furious. Our fate will be terrible.”

Cheng Guang, despite weighing a good one hundred and thirty or forty pounds, was as light as a chick in Qingluan’s grasp—lifted and pushed along with ease.

Thus, he was sent out of the courtyard by Qingluan.

The steward was waiting outside. He came forward and draped a brocade robe over Cheng Guang’s shoulders. “Young master, the weather is chilly today and the wind is strong. Please take care of your health.”

“The weather’s changing?” Feeling the cold wind, Cheng Guang shivered a little. It was only February; the capital shouldn’t be so cold. Something seemed odd, but he didn’t overthink it. Looking up, the sky was gray and overcast, with clouds pressing low. It seemed certain.

There would be rain today.

Qingluan released her hold from Cheng Guang’s back and, as usual, followed the steward toward the main hall where Madam waited. The closer they got, the more anxious Qingluan became. Madam had never known about the stand-in, and the secret must not be exposed now.

Qingluan grew increasingly nervous, but Cheng Guang, in contrast, was gradually relaxing. His mood was carefree, or perhaps he had simply resigned himself—he felt no pressure at all.

They hadn’t walked far with Steward Wang when a jade carriage, pulled by a strange beast with the power to tread the wind, approached slowly.

Soon, a familiar voice called out, “Young master, come aboard.”

The voice was melodious; Cheng Guang’s memories told him this was the personal maid of the Heir’s mother.

“Aunt Xue, what’s this about?” Qingluan asked, puzzled.

“Madam is in the carriage. She’s taking the young master to the palace,” came the reply.

Qingluan could only look at Cheng Guang, her expression helpless.

Cheng Guang didn’t hesitate and stepped forward.

“Guang’er, come here,” called a gentle, elegant woman as the carriage door was opened. She looked at Cheng Guang with a warm, loving smile, beckoning him inside.

This was Madam Wu, the Heir’s mother.

“Yes, Mother,” Cheng Guang answered, climbing into the carriage.

His predecessor’s memories told him that Madam Wu doted on the Heir more than anyone in the household. Although he’d rarely interacted with her directly, all the information provided by the real Heir suggested that she was a loving, gentle mother.

He was only playing the Heir under duress; even if Madam Wu discovered he was an imposter, surely her kindness would spare him.

So Cheng Guang reassured himself.

Inside the carriage, a refined, faint fragrance lingered. Two maids were kneeling to either side, while Madam Wu sat in the place of honor, surrounded by refreshments and fruit, her gaze full of concern for Cheng Guang.

“Guang’er, it’s only been a few days, and you’ve lost weight. Did your father make you practice martial arts again before he left?”

Cheng Guang knew the story well. When the Heir was young, he’d been wounded in an assassination attempt, damaging his vital energies. He would never achieve greatness; even with arduous cultivation, he could not surpass the third martial realm, the Purple Mansion.

Disheartened, the Heir had stopped training, but his father, Cheng Zhihai, did not agree. He believed that even if the body was ruined for now, there might be hope for healing in the future. Thus, he insisted Cheng Guang continue practicing daily.

“Don’t worry. Your father may have found a clue to a medicine that can restore your vitality. There’s no rush—just focus on resting and regaining your health for now,” Madam Wu said, gently touching Cheng Guang’s forehead before stating her reason for coming.

“The Emperor is hosting a family banquet today. We’re going to visit, see your aunt and your imperial grandmother, and then return after the meal.”

So that was why Madam Wu had returned early. Cheng Guang also breathed a sigh of relief; perhaps because he looked so much like the real Heir, Madam Wu hadn’t used her spiritual sense to check his body, and so hadn’t discovered he was an imposter.

After a brief glance at her maid, who immediately set the carriage in motion, the beast carrying them soared away on the wind, soon vanishing into the sky.

Inside, Cheng Guang sat properly to Madam Wu’s left, feeling a bit stiff.

“Guang’er, have some fruit,” Madam Wu said kindly, handing him a blood-red pearl fruit wrapped in her own handkerchief and bringing it to his lips.

“Thank you, Mother, I can manage,” Cheng Guang replied, taking bites.

The blood pearl fruit was rare and precious; even one would greatly enhance the power of a lower-ranked martial artist.

Even though Cheng Guang had never trained, eating it would improve his health and prolong his life. Only as the Heir’s double could he enjoy such benefits. Ordinary servants like him would never even catch its scent.

As he ate, Cheng Guang’s mind was busy. Madam Wu hadn’t noticed anything amiss—she was even feeding him fruit, which seemed odd but was also understandable. After all, though she doted on the Heir, she didn’t see him every day and knew him less well than Qingluan did. A few differences wouldn’t arouse suspicion; she’d only worry he was getting too thin or catching a cold.

He’d passed this hurdle.

Once they reached the palace, Cheng Guang planned to look for Wu Ling, as his mission required. If he could find her, he could judge whether this system’s task was within his abilities. If possible, he’d take advantage of the future Empress Wu Ling before she grew into her power. If not, he’d simply give up—there was no use fighting with this troublesome system.

“Guang’er, when we get to the palace, remember to be sweet-tongued and behave yourself,” Madam Wu patiently instructed. “If you please your grandmother, everything will be easy. You must also be proper with your aunt. Most important of all, do not make trouble.”

“Yes, Mother,” Cheng Guang replied obediently, glancing around at the maids in the carriage. He couldn’t help but look twice at those who were especially pretty, but quickly looked away, knowing his place.

All the maids were beautiful and graceful—though not as stunning as Qingluan, still among the finest. Unfortunately, not one truly belonged to him.

He was only an ordinary, insignificant stand-in.

Noticing Cheng Guang’s gaze, Madam Wu seemed to think of something. “Guang’er, when we’re at the palace, don’t get too close to Qin Hua and Chang Yang. Those girls have their eyes on you every day; if they fall for you, it’ll be troublesome.”

Cheng Guang was caught off guard by her sudden warning.

“Guang’er, those girls may be pretty, but they’re princesses. If you marry one, even as the Heir Apparent, you’ll only be allowed one wife, just like your father. You won’t be able to take concubines later. If the new emperor favors her, she’ll keep you in check, and your life will be harder than your father’s.”

“Besides, I hope you’ll have several wives and give our family many descendants. For three generations, the House That Guards the Nation has had only one heir each—such a big household, and so few children… it’s really not right.”

Madam Wu stroked Cheng Guang’s hair, speaking with both indulgence and seriousness.

Cheng Guang was stunned. Goodness, wasn’t this exactly his father’s predicament? People really do have double standards—one for their husbands, another for their sons. She hoped he’d marry many women and carry on the family line… Was this something a mere stand-in should hear?

He couldn’t help but envy the real Heir. Who knew where the true young master was, enjoying his freedom, seeing the world?

Cheng Guang’s emotions were complicated.

About half an hour later, they arrived at their destination.

…