Chapter 90: Spare Him Beneath the Blade

Shen Qianmo sighed inwardly. She had long expected that using the immunity medal to save Mo Qingshan’s life would send Emperor Mingde into a fury.

When he had bestowed such a priceless token upon her, she had chosen to use it to save a man he himself had ordered executed. Was that not making him lift a stone only to smash his own foot with it? Emperor Mingde felt that his imperial authority had been deeply mocked, and in his rage he nearly lost all reason.

Only now did Shen Qianmo truly understand what it meant for the Son of Heaven to blaze with wrath. When the sovereign of the realm flew into a temper, it was indeed terrifying. This was, after all, an age where imperial power stood above all else, and the enraged emperor before her held the power of life and death over her. With but a few casual words, he could have her beheaded on the spot.

Helpless, Shen Qianmo knelt once more, though her tone remained as firm as ever. “I have no intention of defying Your Majesty. I beg Your Majesty to calm your anger. Mo Qingshan is my adoptive father, and now that his life hangs by a thread, I was frantic beyond measure and could think of no other way. Our dynasty has always ruled through benevolence and filial piety. I trust that Your Majesty will understand this daughter’s filial heart and grant my request.”

“Good. Very good.” Her words were so sincere, so moving in their filial devotion, that Emperor Mingde found himself unable for a moment to refute her. He could only let out a cold laugh and repeat those words before turning to Meng Yuanheng. “And Prince Xuan shares this view as well?”

“What Mo’er means is what I mean.” Meng Yuanheng’s voice was, as always, cool and clear, utterly untouched by the emperor’s fury.

“So you too would defy me for the sake of Mo Qingshan, this adoptive father of yours?” Emperor Mingde looked at Meng Yuanheng’s cold, solemn face, pain in his eyes, though beneath it lingered a trace of hope.

How desperately he wanted to hear a denial.

But plainly, he was disappointed.

Meng Yuanheng met the emperor’s gaze in silence. The stubborn certainty in his eyes said everything.

Emperor Mingde was utterly disheartened. His second son bore such deep feeling for Mo Qingshan, his adoptive father, yet treated him, his own flesh-and-blood father, with such chill indifference. How was he to bear that?

He thought of the plans he had entertained these past two years regarding the heir to the throne. In talent, character, intellect, and strategy, Meng Yuanheng stood far above the other princes. And recently he had heard that there was hope for the healing of his legs. Emperor Mingde truly had begun to consider passing the throne to this second son.

But now it seemed that this son would never be one with him in heart. The disappointment cut too deep. The matter of succession, it seemed, would require much more careful thought.

For a moment the emperor’s gaze dimmed, and with a weariness close to despair he said, “Since both of you insist upon this, then I shall of course fulfill your filial devotion. But since the immunity medal belongs to the Shen girl, only you may personally carry it to the Imperial Guard prison to save him. If you send another in your place to deliver my command, the Imperial Guard will not recognize it.”

The secret decree to execute Mo Qingshan had already been sent to the Imperial Guard. As for whether the Shen girl could still make it in time, that would depend upon Mo Qingshan’s fate.

“I receive Your Majesty’s command. My thanks, Your Majesty.” Shen Qianmo finally breathed a little easier. Whatever else might be said, Emperor Mingde had agreed.

“Shen girl, do not say I failed to warn you. Once this immunity medal is used, it is void forever. Have you truly thought this through?” The emperor genuinely felt it a pity that she should spend so precious a token on Mo Qingshan.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for granting my wish.” Her unyielding tone made her answer plain.

Eunuch Li escorted Shen Qianmo and Meng Yuanheng out of the Hall of Diligent Governance. When they reached a quiet, secluded place with few people about, he lowered his voice and said, “Your Highness Prince Xuan, Miss Shen, His Majesty’s verbal decree was delivered to the Imperial Guard over an hour ago. The Imperial Guard works with great efficiency. You must hurry to the prison at once. I fear Elder Mo may not be able to wait.”

Hearing this, Shen Qianmo could not help cursing inwardly. The old emperor truly was vicious enough.

At such a life-and-death moment, he had still imposed such a condition. Clearly, he meant to make things difficult for them.

The Imperial Guard prison lay at the southwestern edge of the imperial city, more than a dozen li from here. She could not ride a horse, and if she took a carriage, it would delay them far too much. Most likely, they would not make it in time.

As she hurried out of the vast palace, Shen Qianmo was consumed with anxiety and wanted only to reach the prison as fast as possible. But where could she possibly find a horse at such short notice?

Meng Yuanheng was no less anxious, filled with frustration. There were countless fine horses at the Prince Xuan Manor and at the Feiyun Cavalry camp, and Gale and Lightning in particular could cover a thousand li in a day. But distant water could not quench a present fire. The prince’s manor was not near, and the military camp outside the city was farther still.

Urgently he said to Changdong, “Use your fastest speed and go to the manor. Tell Yan Mo to bring Gale here to the East Splendor Gate at once.”

Just as Changdong was about to obey and leave, a horseman appeared not far ahead, racing swiftly toward the East Splendor Gate.

The rider wore the black-and-gold uniform of the Commander of the Golden Guard. His features were resolute, his bearing upright and heroic. It was none other than Feng Ze.

Riding a black steed, whip raised, he came on like the wind. Reining in beside Shen Qianmo, he pulled sharply on the reins, and the black horse gave a shrill neigh before halting.

“Qianmo, get on.” Feng Ze extended his hand to her. The four words were crisp, decisive, beyond dispute.

His arrival, like a dark prince descending from the heavens, filled Shen Qianmo with relief and delight. If she rode with him now, they would save a great deal of time.

No matter how peerless Changdong’s lightness skill might be, and no matter how swiftly Yan Mo might bring Gale, the round trip to the prince’s manor would still cost them precious time.

There was no time to waste. She turned quickly to Meng Yuanheng. “Aheng, time is too tight. I’ll go ahead with Feng Ze to the Imperial Guard prison. You follow in the carriage, all right?”

From the moment he saw Feng Ze appear, Meng Yuanheng’s handsome face had darkened. And now, seeing Shen Qianmo about to share a horse with him, he was naturally unwilling a thousand times over.

But he also knew that this was no moment for jealousy. Elder Mo’s life mattered more than anything.

With utmost reluctance he watched Shen Qianmo take Feng Ze’s hand. Feng Ze pulled, and with a light leap she mounted, settling behind him.

“Hold tight,” Feng Ze said softly, glancing back over his shoulder.

“All right. Let’s go quickly.” Shen Qianmo nodded and wrapped both arms around his lean, powerful waist.

Though the posture did seem somewhat intimate, Mo Qingshan’s life was hanging by a thread, and this was the only fastest way to reach the Imperial Guard. She had no choice.

In truth, in her former life, when investigations had required it, she had ridden a motorcycle with Yuan Lie more than once. It was not so different from riding double like this, and she herself did not feel it especially improper.

With a sharp cry, Feng Ze pressed his legs to the horse’s flanks, lashed the whip, and shot forward in a cloud of dust. In the gale stirred by the hooves, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

This was the first time he had ever been so close to her.

Feeling the arms clasped tightly around his waist, the soft body at his back, and catching the faint fragrance that drifted to his nose, Feng Ze’s body stiffened slightly. His strong, chiseled features tensed, and a faint flush passed over his bronze-colored face, so subtle it was nearly impossible to detect.

Meng Yuanheng stared darkly in the direction the two had vanished, his hands clenched tightly upon his own legs, thin lips pressed hard together, his face livid.

He knew Shen Qianmo felt nothing romantic toward Feng Ze, and that this was an extraordinary moment in which he ought not be jealous. Yet to watch Mo’er so close to another man—especially this man, Feng Ze, who had long coveted her—filled his heart with bitterness. A nameless fire churned within him, nowhere to be vented.

At that moment, he felt only profound dejection. Sitting in his wheelchair, he was like a useless cripple. Horsemanship had once been the skill of which he was proudest, yet now he could not even mount a horse.

If his legs could never be healed, would Mo’er come to despise him?

Shen Qianmo sped all the way with Feng Ze and before long arrived at the Imperial Guard prison.

Those confined there were all major criminals of the court or secret prisoners of consequence, and the defenses were naturally strict beyond measure. Ordinary people could never enter.

At the prison entrance, Feng Ze showed his command token to the guard. The man recognized it at once and hurriedly bowed with clasped fists. “This humble one greets General Wuwei.”

“By His Majesty’s verbal decree, Mo Qingshan is to be spared. You—take us to his cell.” Feng Ze’s expression was stern, his gaze piercing, his tone carrying a force no one dared reject.

The guard hesitated. Just earlier, he seemed to have heard that His Majesty had issued an order to execute Mo Qingshan in secret. Why then had General Wuwei now come with a command to spare his life? What in the world was happening?

He cast Feng Ze a doubtful glance, only to discover in surprise that a beautiful, gentle-looking woman in plain robes had stepped out from behind him.

This woman, lovely as an immortal, had delicate features and skin white as snow. In her hand she held a gleaming golden token. Majesty shone from her fair face, and her voice was sharp and commanding.

“The immunity medal bestowed by His Majesty is here. Why are you not leading the way at once?”

Though she appeared small and delicate, the imposing authority she radiated was not in the least inferior to that of the tall and imposing general beside her.

The guard had never seen the immunity medal before, but he had heard of it. There was only one such token in the Great Sheng dynasty, and His Majesty had granted it to the future Princess Consort of Prince Xuan. Then this woman before him must be she.

Daring no delay, the guard immediately lowered his head in respect and obeyed, leading them forward.

The Imperial Guard prison was dim and sinister. Shen Qianmo and Feng Ze hurried behind the guard through a dark corridor until they reached the cell where Mo Qingshan had been held.

When the head jailer heard why they had come, he said with marked impatience, “Mo Qingshan was taken away by the commander a quarter of an hour ago. By now, he may already have been executed.”

What?

So the Imperial Guard truly was efficient—or perhaps someone was simply too eager to have Mo Qingshan dead.

Seeing Shen Qianmo’s frantic expression, Feng Ze’s heart clenched with pain. He seized the head jailer by the collar and thundered, “Where is the execution chamber? Lead us there at once. His Majesty has already ordered that Mo Qingshan’s life be spared. If you carry out the execution in secret, do you intend to disobey the imperial command?”

“Yes, yes, this lowly one will take you there at once.” Intimidated by Feng Ze’s presence and equally unable to bear the charge of defying an imperial decree, the head jailer stood stunned for a moment before bobbing his head frantically and agreeing.

The execution chamber lay in the deepest part of the prison. When the two of them rushed to the door, they saw Mo Qingshan kneeling on the ground, his hands bound behind his back, a strip of black cloth covering his eyes, while an Imperial Guard officer was just raising his blade to strike at his neck.

“Stop!”

At that critical instant, Shen Qianmo cried out sharply. In one motion she pulled the jade hairpin from her hair and, summoning all her strength, hurled it at the gleaming steel blade.

With a clear, ringing note, it struck in the deathly stillness of the chamber. The jade pin shattered as it hit the ground, and the executioner’s blade trembled in his hand.

Then Shen Qianmo’s bright, resolute voice rang out:

“The immunity medal is here. By His Majesty’s verbal decree, Mo Qingshan is spared the death penalty.”