Empress Jiang
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 9: The Murder
Hanseong (Seoul), Joseon Kingdom. Winter, 1435
Age 20
The night was moonless—perfect darkness.
Zhao Lanying moved through the palace corridors like a ghost, her footsteps silent on the wooden floors. She’d practiced this route dozens of times, knew exactly which boards creaked, which shadows provided cover.
She wore dark sleeping robes. Her hair was unbound. To anyone who might see her, she was simply the Crown Princess unable to sleep, wandering her own quarters.
But no one saw her.
She reached the nursery through the connecting corridor. Slipped inside without a sound.
The wet nurse was dozing in her chair, head drooping forward. The mild sedative Zhao Lanying had added to her evening tea was working perfectly—not enough to render her unconscious, but enough to make her deeply, heavily drowsy.
Yong slept in his cradle, breathing softly. Six months old. Healthy. Perfect.
About to die.
Zhao Lanying positioned herself behind the decorative screen in the corner—the one she’d selected weeks ago during her planning. From here, she could see everything while remaining completely invisible in the darkness.
She settled into stillness. Controlled her breathing. Waited.
Every part of her screamed to stop this. To pick up her son and run. To call it off.
But she’d come too far. Planned too carefully. Sacrificed too much of herself already in preparation for this moment.
The coiled dragon doesn’t strike until the moment is perfect.
And the moment was now.
Sun-hee arrived at the third watch, exactly as planned.
Zhao Lanying heard the soft sound of footsteps. Saw the door open carefully.
The maid slipped inside, carrying a tea tray—her excuse if anyone questioned her presence. A servant bringing late-night medicinal tea for the prince’s household.
A guard had seen her. Zhao Lanying knew this because she’d arranged the timing specifically so the night patrol would glimpse Sun-hee with her tea tray, heading toward the Crown Prince’s quarters.
A witness. Perfect.
Sun-hee set down the tray with trembling hands. Her face was pale in the dim lamplight, terrified but determined.
She believed she was serving the Empress. Believed she was eliminating a threat to her mistress’s grandson. Believed she would be rewarded and protected.
She had no idea she was a weapon being wielded by someone she’d never suspect.
Sun-hee approached the cradle. Looked down at the sleeping infant.
Hesitated.
Zhao Lanying watched, barely breathing. If Sun-hee lost her nerve now...
But the maid reached into her sleeve and pulled out a square of silk. Small. Innocent-looking. Deadly.
She whispered something—too quiet for Zhao Lanying to hear. A prayer? An apology?
Then she pressed the silk over Yong’s face.
Yong woke immediately.
His small body jerked. Legs kicked. Tiny hands flailed.
Zhao Lanying watched her son fight for his life.
Every cell in her body screamed at her to move. To stop this. To save him.
She remained absolutely still.
Her fingernails dug into her palms hard enough to draw blood. Tears streamed silently down her face. Her jaw was clenched so tight she thought her teeth might crack.
But she didn’t move.
Didn’t make a sound.
Just watched.
Watched as Yong’s struggles grew weaker. Watched as Sun-hee pressed harder, her whole body shaking. Watched as the wet nurse continued sleeping, oblivious.
It took less than two minutes.
Then Yong was still.
Sun-hee pulled away the cloth, gasping. Stared at the dead infant with dawning horror.
“What have I done?” she whispered. “Heaven forgive me, what have I done?”
She stood frozen for a moment, the silk cloth in her trembling hand.
Then she tucked it back in her sleeve, straightened her clothing, and fled.
The door closed softly behind her.
Zhao Lanying remained behind the screen for a full minute after Sun-hee left.
Making sure. Making absolutely certain the maid was gone.
Then she rose on shaking legs and moved to the cradle.
Looked down at her son.
He looked peaceful. Like he was sleeping. His face was slightly flushed but otherwise unmarked.
She reached down, touched his small hand. Still warm.
Her throat closed. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
I did this. I watched him die. I let him die.
I murdered my own son.
The grief that crashed through her was so intense it nearly brought her to her knees. She wanted to scream. To tear the world apart. To undo the last five minutes.
But she couldn’t.
What was done was done.
She pulled her hand back. Forced herself to breathe.
The plan wasn’t complete yet. She had to finish this.
Zhao Lanying slipped out of the nursery the same way she’d come. Silent. Unseen. Back through the connecting corridor to her own chambers.
She lay down on her sleeping mat. Arranged her hair to look natural. Controlled her breathing to appear peaceful.
And waited for someone to discover what she’d done.
The scream came perhaps twenty minutes later.
The wet nurse, finally stirring from her drugged sleep, had gone to check on the prince.
Found him cold in his cradle.
Her shriek echoed through the palace.
“HELP! SOMEONE HELP! THE PRINCE—THE PRINCE IS DEAD!”
Zhao Lanying jerked “awake” at the sound. Sat up, confused, disoriented—the perfect picture of someone torn from sleep by an emergency.
Lady Park burst into her chambers. “Your Highness! Your Highness, please come quickly—”
“What? What’s happening?” Zhao Lanying stood, letting genuine fear show on her face.
“It’s the young prince. Your son. He’s—” Lady Park’s voice broke. “Your Highness, I’m so sorry. He’s dead.”
The words hung in the air.
Zhao Lanying stared at Lady Park. Let comprehension slowly dawn on her face.
“Dead?” Her voice was a whisper. “What do you mean dead?”
“The wet nurse found him. She says he wasn’t breathing, and—”
Zhao Lanying didn’t wait to hear more. She ran.
Through the corridors. Into the nursery. Past the guards and servants clustering at the door.
Straight to the cradle.
Where her son lay, still and silent.
The scream that tore from her throat was real.
Pure. Agonized. The sound of a mother’s world shattering.
“NO! NO! YONG!”
She lunged for the cradle, grabbed him, pulled his small body to her chest.
He was cooling now. The warmth fading.
“My baby. My son. No, please, no—”
She rocked back and forth, clutching him. Tears streaming down her face.
The grief was real. Genuine. Overwhelming.
She’d known she would have to mourn him. What she hadn’t expected was that the mourning wouldn’t be performance.
It was real.
Even though she’d caused it. Even though she’d watched him die. Even though this was exactly what she’d planned.
The grief was devastatingly, agonizingly real.
“YONG!” Another scream. She collapsed to the floor, still holding him. Her body convulsed with sobs.
Lady Park tried to approach. “Your Highness, please—”
“Don’t touch him!” Zhao Lanying’s voice was raw. “Don’t take him from me!”
The wet nurse was on the floor too, weeping. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I’m so sorry. I fell asleep, I don’t know how, I was watching him but I must have dozed off—”
Zhao Lanying’s head snapped toward her. Eyes wild with grief and rage.
“You fell asleep?” Her voice was deadly quiet. “You fell asleep while my son—while someone—”
She couldn’t finish. Just clutched Yong tighter and rocked.
The Crown Prince arrived, summoned by the commotion. He saw his wife on the floor with their dead son and went white.
“What happened?” His voice shook.
“I don’t know!” the wet nurse wailed. “I was watching him, I swear, but I must have fallen asleep, and when I woke he was—he was—”
“You fell asleep.” Munjong’s voice was cold as ice. “You were entrusted with the Crown Prince’s son and you fell asleep.”
“I don’t know how! I’ve never slept on duty before, I swear, something must have—”
“SILENCE.” Munjong turned to the guards. “Take her to the interrogation chamber. Find out how this happened.”
As guards dragged the still-protesting wet nurse away, the court physician arrived.
He had to physically pry Yong from Zhao Lanying’s arms. She fought him, screaming, until Lady Park and two other women restrained her.
The physician examined the small body quickly. His face grew grave.
“Your Highness,” he said to Munjong. “This was not natural death.”
The room went silent.
“What?” Munjong’s voice was barely audible.
“The infant was smothered. You can see the slight discoloration around the nose and mouth. The positioning of the body. This was murder.”
The word hung in the air like poison.
Murder.
Zhao Lanying had gone very still. Tears still streamed down her face, but she was staring at the physician with an expression of dawning horror.
“Murder?” she whispered. “Someone murdered my son?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I’m certain.”
“WHO?” The roar that came from Zhao Lanying was primal. Feral. “WHO DID THIS?”
Munjong was already moving. “Search the nursery. Search the entire wing. Question everyone who had access tonight. FIND OUT WHO KILLED MY SON.”
Guards scattered to obey.
Zhao Lanying sat on the floor where they’d restrained her, staring at nothing. Her face was ravaged—red, swollen from crying, pale with shock.
She looked utterly destroyed.
“My baby,” she whispered. “Someone killed my baby.”
Lady Park tried to help her up. “Your Highness, please. Let us take you back to your chambers—”
“No.” Zhao Lanying’s voice was flat. Dead. “I stay here. With my son. Until we know who did this.”
No one dared argue with her.
The investigation moved quickly.
The palace was in lockdown. Everyone who’d been near the Crown Prince’s quarters that night was questioned.
One of the night guards reported seeing a woman with a tea tray heading toward the building around the third watch.
“A maid,” he said. “Young. Carrying medicinal tea, she said.”
“Did you recognize her?”
“Not certain. But she came from the direction of the Empress’s quarters.”
That detail rippled through the investigation like lightning.
“The Empress’s household?” The chief investigator’s voice sharpened. “Which maid specifically?”
It took another hour of questioning servants and cross-referencing duty rosters, but they identified her: Sun-hee.
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