Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 891: Upheaval in the Palace

Wanyan Yuan’s hands trembled as he held the wine cup, his movements unbearably slow, as if the vessel weighed a thousand pounds. Just as the cup neared his lips, he paused, his face twisting with visible struggle.  

Soon, others in the hall noticed the oddity, casting puzzled glances his way. The more observant among them even began to suspect—was there something wrong with the wine?  

The atmosphere in the hall grew tense and eerie once more. Seeing Wanyan Yuan still refusing to drink, Emperor Xizong’s anger flared. He snorted coldly, “Why does Prince Changsheng not drink?”  

Wanyan Yuan’s expression hardened, as if he had made a grave decision. He set the cup down and replied, “Your Majesty, this humble brother has been unwell of late. The physician has strictly forbidden me from drinking wine. I beg Your Majesty’s understanding.”  

“Unwell?” Emperor Xizong sneered. “Summon the imperial physician! Let him examine Prince Changsheng and see what ails him.”  

Cold sweat broke out on Wanyan Yuan’s brow. He hurriedly added, “This brother has been suffering from insomnia and night sweats, plagued by nightmares. The physician advised rest and abstinence from alcohol. There is no need to trouble the imperial physician.”  

Having held high status for so long, Wanyan Yuan was no complete fool. In this critical moment, he had conjured a plausible excuse. Even if the imperial physician were summoned, he could insist it was an internal ailment—no physician, no matter how skilled, could disprove his claim.  

“Is that so?” Emperor Xizong’s tone was noncommittal as he studied him silently. Just as the ministers began to fear an imperial outburst, the emperor suddenly smiled. “Since Prince Changsheng is unwell, I shall not press him to drink.”  

“Many thanks, Elder Brother!” Wanyan Yuan bowed hastily, though his heart turned to ice. He knew his elder brother all too well—the brighter his smile, the deadlier his intent.  

The banquet resumed, but after Yang Guo’s defiance and Wanyan Yuan’s refusal, an uneasy tension lingered in the ministers’ eyes.  

After a while longer, Wanyan Yuan realized staying any longer was too dangerous. He had narrowly escaped the poisoned wine, but if the emperor tried something else, he might not be so lucky again. Fear gnawed at him, and soon he excused himself, claiming a need to relieve himself. 

Emperor Xizong’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, merely waving him off.  

Once Wanyan Yuan left, the hall fell into a brief silence—until a eunuch rushed in, panic-stricken. “Your Majesty! Prince Changsheng… he… he…”  

“He what?” Wanyan’s brows furrowed deeply.  

“This slave… dares not speak!” The eunuch trembled violently, sweat pouring down his face.  

“Worthless fool! I command you to speak!” Wanyan slammed his palm on the armrest of the throne. “If you hesitate again, I’ll have you flayed alive!”  

“Prince Changsheng said… he was feeling unwell and has already left the palace!”  

The moment the eunuch spoke, the hall erupted in shock.  

Even on an ordinary day, no subject could leave the palace without the emperor’s permission, let alone on the emperor’s birthday. Wanyan Yuan’s actions were nothing short of open defiance—a complete rupture between him and the throne.  

Crash!  

Emperor Xizong swept the wine cups and flagon from the table, sending them smashing to the floor. “Who will bring that insolent fool back to me?!”  

The ministers exchanged uneasy glances. Everyone knew the struggle between the emperor and Prince Changsheng had reached a boiling point. Though the emperor seemed to hold the upper hand, Wanyan Yuan still commanded considerable power. Until the final moment, who could predict the outcome?  

Those seated in the hall were all seasoned foxes. None dared take sides—not only out of fear that Wanyan Yuan might retaliate if he prevailed, but more importantly, because this was a conflict between brothers. Who knew if the emperor might suddenly preach fraternal harmony later? Those who acted rashly would be the first to suffer. History was littered with examples of loyal ministers discarded by emperors—none of these old foxes were willing to take the risk.  

“Must I go myself?!” Emperor Xizong roared when no one responded.  

“I will go.” Yang Guo stood abruptly.  

Song Qingshu’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Since when has Yang Guo taken an interest in the Jin Dynasty’s court struggles?’  

Emperor Xizong’s fury eased into satisfaction. “I have long heard of Bingde’s formidable martial skills. This task suits you perfectly. Take fifty guards and ‘invite’ Prince Changsheng back. If he resists… you have my permission to use force.”  

“Understood.” Yang Guo’s reply was curt before he turned and strode out.  

A murmur spread through the hall as the ministers speculated whether Yang Guo’s actions signaled the Prince Zhao faction’s complete break with Wanyan Yuan. Yet judging by the bewildered expressions of Prince Zhao’s officials, Song Qingshu guessed they were just as blindsided.  

The banquet continued, though no one paid attention to the palace maids’ performances. Every gaze kept drifting toward the hall’s entrance.  

Song Qingshu sighed inwardly. ‘With all these disruptions, it would be better to end the banquet early. Staying here is pure torment.’  

Before long, hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance. The ministers turned eagerly—only to see the guard captain who had followed Yang Guo return alone. Confusion rippled through the crowd.  

Emperor Xizong frowned. “Where is Prince Changsheng? And where is Bingde?”  

The guard wiped sweat from his brow, struggling for words. “Your Majesty, Lord Bingde… the moment we left the palace, he used Qinggong and vanished. We searched everywhere but couldn’t find him.”  

Emperor Xizong laughed in cold fury. “Splendid! Truly splendid! Both my brothers are exceptional indeed!” Without another word, he turned and stormed off.  

Song Qingshu nearly chuckled aloud. ‘Yang Guo, you rascal. Forced into a marriage, you chose the simplest solution—running away. How very like you.’  

Nearby, a cup clattered to the floor—Pucha Qiucao had lost her grip. But no one paid her any mind. The ministers huddled together, whispering anxiously, sensing a storm brewing.  

The banquet ended in discord, and the guests dispersed swiftly.  

“Elder Brother is truly furious. I don’t understand why Second Brother has pushed things this far,” Gebi murmured worriedly once they returned home. Though not born of the same mother, she and Wanyan Yuan were still siblings—she had no wish to see them turn on each other.  

“It all comes down to the throne…” Song Qingshu consoled her.  

Just then, a secret missive arrived. Song Qingshu unfolded it, his expression shifting instantly:  

“Upheaval in the palace. Come at once!”