TRBDM -Chapter 200 Must Fight

It was Wei Zhaorong’s first time visiting Qingfeng Hall, and Wei Qing stopped her at the entrance.

“I am Wei Zhaorong, the Dowager of the Mingde Marquisate. I wish to pay my respects to the Tenth Prince.”

Wei Qing’s sharp gaze swept over her from head to toe, but Wei Zhaorong met it calmly, without a trace of hesitation.

“Please wait, Dowager. I will inform His Highness.”

Watching Wei Qing’s broad, sturdy back as he walked away, Wei Zhaorong couldn’t help but wonder: who had arranged for these guards to be stationed in Qingfeng Hall?

Zhao Jingheng was completely alone—no attendants except for Jianxi, who had stayed by his side for three years.

If these men had been assigned by the Imperial Household Department, then their words and actions had to be cautious; any slip could be used against him.

Fearing that Zhao Jingheng might be set up again, Wei Zhaorong kept a careful watch.

After a short while, Wei Qing returned and invited her inside.

In less than the time it took for half an incense stick to burn, his attitude had clearly changed.

Though he still spoke little, the vigilance and resistance he had shown toward Wei Zhaorong were gone.

“Please, Dowager, have a seat. The Tenth Prince will see you shortly.”

“Thank you.”

Wei Zhaorong sat for a moment before a nanny came in to pour her tea.

“Nanny Ding…” Nanny Qi couldn’t hide her surprise and called out.

Nanny Ding looked up and was stunned—her old friend Nanny Qi was standing before her.

“Nanny Qi!”

The two women clasped hands, eyes brimming with tears.

They had known each other years ago. Time had passed, many had departed this world, becoming mere passing figures in life—but here they were, reunited. The luck of it seemed almost miraculous.

When Zhao Jingheng entered, this was the scene he saw.

Hearing footsteps, Nanny Ding was the first to react. She quickly wiped away her tears, embarrassed. “Your Highness, Dowager, please forgive me. I have shown poor manners.”

“Do you know each other?” Zhao Jingheng asked.

Nanny Ding nodded. “We’ve known each other since childhood. But after more than ten years apart, it’s hard to control our emotions at first sight.”

Zhao Jingheng hadn’t expected Nanny Ding and Nanny Qi to be old friends.

“It’s fine. You may go to the side hall to catch up. Let Jianxi attend from nearby.”

Jianxi immediately agreed. “Yes, Nanny Ding, leave everything to me.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Nanny Ding took Nanny Qi’s hand, and the two of them went to the side hall.

Nanny Qi had been transferred to Qingfeng Hall from the Imperial Kitchen a few days ago by the Household Department.

After the poisoning incident caused by a mistake in the kitchen, the Household Department had been uneasy and reluctant to send anyone to Qingfeng Hall again.

Qingfeng Hall was vast, and one attendant was obviously not enough. Zhao Jingheng had naturally appointed Nanny Ding to manage the hall.

Nanny Ding personally selected a few palace maids and young eunuchs—sharp-tongued, clever, and capable—and gradually Qingfeng Hall began to feel alive.

The happiest of all was Jianxi.

Now he was the Grand Steward of Qingfeng Hall, and his status had risen dramatically.

Every palace maid and eunuch in the hall bowed upon seeing him, respectfully calling out, “Grand Steward.”

Jianxi was thrilled.

His voice had been ruined by the deadly powder; speaking made him sound a decade older.

But in Qingfeng Hall, that husky voice gave him absolute authority.

With his cherubic face and hoarse, smoky voice, he could easily intimidate others.

Day by day, he grinned and scurried around Zhao Jingheng, utterly delighted.

“Dowager, may I ask what brings you here today?”

In truth, Zhao Jingheng already had a suspicion.

Sure enough, Wei Zhaorong’s words matched his expectation:

“His Majesty’s health is failing, and the court is unstable. The princes are constantly vying for power, openly and secretly.”

Wei Zhaorong’s expression remained calm as she spoke words that defied protocol:

“I have consulted a venerable monk who foretold that the Tenth Prince will be the future emperor. I am fully convinced. Therefore, I have resolved to support the Tenth Prince at all costs.”

“Additionally, the Nanyang General’s household is also willing to lend their support.”

Her words were straightforward, her loyalty apparent.

Looking at her not-so-young face, Zhao Jingheng was inexplicably reminded of Consort Shu.

If Consort Shu were alive, she would have been around the same age as Wei Zhaorong.

Besides Consort Shu, no one had ever chosen him with such unwavering certainty.

He had always been the one abandoned, the one discarded.

Zhao Kuang ignored him, only remembering him when useful—and once that usefulness ended, he could be discarded at will.

He had been utterly alone, constantly accompanied by darkness.

But the letter Wei Zhaorong had sent to the Imperial Academy seemed to tear a slit in that darkness.

With sunlight seeping in, Zhao Jingheng’s thoughts began to shift, little by little.

Now he had the support of the Dali Court and Zhao Lingchen. On top of that, the Mingde Marquisate and the Nanyang General’s household were also backing him.

The number of people supporting him was growing.

The composed expression on Zhao Jingheng’s face broke, and he realized: he must fight.