Chapter Thirty-Seven-Quando a concubina diz que eu não mereço? A filha legítima renascida, abalando a corte e conquistando o posto de fênix(Chuva intensa)

Leng Yichen’s face was etched with bewilderment, his eyes clouded with confusion as if he were lost in a dense fog, unable to find his footing.

Seeing this, Shen Ning-shuang continued, her voice lowered to a deliberate hush, as if the secret she spoke of carried the weight to shatter the very heavens. "What we are looking for is the late Emperor’s last will and testament."

A tremor of shock rippled through Leng Yichen, sharp and sudden as a bolt of lightning tearing through the night sky. The late Emperor had left a will, and for all these years, it had remained hidden and unexecuted? The news struck him with the force of a thunderclap.

"We confirmed the existence of this decree, though at first, we did not know its contents. Yet, given the lengths to which the late Emperor went to hide it, it must be of monumental importance—enough to alter the fate of the entire realm. Over these past years, we have frequently tested the current Emperor’s reactions, and now we are all but certain: this is an edict of succession." Shen Ning-shuang spoke with a measured, rhythmic clarity, as if recounting a long-buried legend.

Leng Yichen’s hands trembled slightly. He had already guessed the truth, but his heart refused to grasp such an abrupt reality. He felt as though he were standing on the threshold between a dream and the waking world, paralyzed by shock.

"Your Highness, when the late Emperor passed, you were still a child. Have you never wondered how he fell ill so suddenly, or how the current Emperor ascended the throne? You likely never doubted it. But based on the evidence we have gathered, the successor named in that decree is not the current Emperor. The one intended to inherit the throne is… you, the twelfth prince, Leng Yichen." Shen Ning-shuang locked her gaze onto his, as if to sear the truth into his very soul.

Leng Yichen drew a deep, ragged breath, struggling to suppress the tempest of emotions rising within him. He sat down slowly and reached for his teacup. Though he feigned composure, the trembling of his fingertips and the ripples dancing across the surface of the tea betrayed the turmoil beneath his calm exterior.

Why had she chosen him out of all the princes? Was she not trying to abet a coup, but rather to right a great wrong and restore the rightful heir? In an instant, memories flooded his mind: the late Emperor’s kindness, the current Emperor’s wary eyes, the piercing glares he received while mourning at the imperial tomb, and the cryptic warnings from Master Mingkong. These details surged like a tide, crashing against his resolve and leaving him unable to find peace.

He urged himself to remain calm, to regain control of his reason, as if locked in a life-or-death struggle against his own panic. "On what basis do you make such a claim?" he asked, his voice regaining some stability, though it could not mask his underlying tension. "A matter of this magnitude cannot be built on mere conjecture."

Shen Ning-shuang bowed her head slightly. "Your Highness, for this, I must first beg your forgiveness. The late Emperor entrusted this decree to my father. But in those final, chaotic days, the political landscape was treacherous. The current Emperor had set his traps; the capital was a web of intrigue, and the families of all high-ranking officials were held hostage within the palace walls. We can no longer know the full extent of the peril, but in the end, my father never found the opportunity to reveal the decree." Her voice carried a trace of sorrow, as if revisiting a harrowing chapter of history.

"After the current Emperor ascended, the decree became a death warrant. Had it been discovered, the Shen family would have been branded with treason. My father made a grueling choice: he hid it. Since the Emperor did not know of its existence, the Shen family survived the transition, and you were permitted to grow up safely."

"Yet, there are no secrets in this world. Rumors eventually began to circulate. I discovered the decree in our home by chance. Young and filled with a sense of justice, I demanded to know why my father had remained silent for so long. He gave me no answer, and our relationship became strained. I began to cultivate my own power, knowing this secret would eventually unleash a storm, and that we had to be prepared." She reached out and gripped his hand, as if to transmit her strength. "We kept this from you for two reasons: we feared you might act rashly and alert the Emperor, and we feared that once you knew the truth, you would never trust us again."

She was right. The root of her silence was the knowledge that, in Leng Yichen’s heart, the Shen family had already failed him. The succession was no trivial matter; it concerned the rise and fall of a dynasty and the lives of countless souls. Because of the Shen family's choice, he had missed his chance to ascend, and for years, he had lived under the shadow of suspicion and suppression. That he had not sought vengeance spoke to his incredible restraint. How could she expect him to cast aside his resentment and trust them so easily?

For a long time, the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Everyone understood that Leng Yichen needed time to digest this bombshell. His heart was a chaotic sea of past grievances, frustration, and uncertainty about the future.

After what felt like an eternity, Leng Yichen broke the silence, his voice rasping as if he had been screaming. "Has anyone seen the decree? Are you certain it names me?" He stared at her, desperate to extract the truth from her eyes.

Shen Ning-shuang fell silent. The decree was locked within a complex, booby-trapped box. Her father had only known it was a matter of succession, not who was named. To date, no one had actually read the contents. She had seen it only in her previous life—a truth too bizarre to ever explain.