Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The grand procession to bestow gifts upon Jade Qiong Court could not be kept secret, and some frowned upon hearing the news.

Several months ago, the Hall of Blissful Peace was the liveliest place in the palace, but after Consort Rong’s miscarriage, it gradually fell into quietude.

Noble Consort Yang was there as well. Upon hearing the news, she paused for a moment before saying, “His Majesty truly cares for her.”

Consort Rong swallowed the medicinal broth bit by bit, neither affirming nor denying Yang’s words. The miscarriage had drained her spirit; especially since it was deemed an accident, she no longer concerned herself with who was favored among the concubines.

Indeed, she was wise enough to understand that her life’s meaning was not solely defined by having children. The less she made a fuss, the more the Emperor seemed to regard her with a trace of pity.

Thus, even though the Hall of Blissful Peace had grown quiet, her treatment within the palace had not diminished.

Consort Rong closed her eyes. Usually cautious, she had let her guard down that day on a whim to admire the flowers at Changyuan Lake—an oversight. Yet all evidence pointed to an accident.

She refused to believe there were accidents in this palace.

But when His Majesty asked, “You usually pay your respects and return to the palace immediately. Why did you go to Changyuan Lake today?” she could not answer.

She had gone to enjoy the scenery on impulse; how could anyone have plotted against her?

His Majesty saw the answer in her silence. After a brief pause, he merely instructed her to recuperate, while the palace staff responsible for her care were thoroughly punished, and those who maintained Changyuan Lake were executed.

Perhaps out of guilt, she had exhausted her spirit during confinement, leaving her with lingering ailments that required daily medicinal nourishment.

Yulu brought Noble Consort Yang a cup of Silver Needle tea, a gift from His Majesty during her pregnancy—this year’s fresh brew, rare in the palace, with only a few select ladies, including those in the Hall of Blissful Peace, receiving some.

Whenever Noble Consort Yang came, Yulu was generous in brewing a cup for her.

The palace was a place of shifting loyalties, yet Noble Consort Yang remained on good terms with Consort Rong as before. For this reason alone, Yulu regarded Yang with a certain respect.

Yang had no mood to savor the tea. She lamented bitterly, “His Majesty met her only once and lavishly sent gifts. Truly, one must be born with good looks to catch that man’s eye.”

Consort Rong rubbed her temples at this; the heaviness of her mood made her increasingly weary of such negativity.

She did not wish to speak harshly and could only sigh softly, “Why concern yourself with her? Newcomers come to the palace every year. If you took every one to heart, wouldn’t you wear yourself out?”

Besides, when a new consort arrives, the Emperor’s attention naturally freshens for a while. Only those who are favored for the long term are truly wise in this palace.

Noble Consort Yang might know this, but deep down she yearned for the Emperor’s favor and hoped to reclaim the Second Prince, making her unable to stop watching the palace’s shifting fortunes.

The more favored others were, the slimmer her chances became. How could she not be anxious?

Consort Rong saw this but did not know how to comfort her.

After all, His Majesty was the most exalted lord beneath heaven and the least likely to force his affections. If he did not favor her, even with the absence of the late Consort Yu and Chu Qingwan’s unmatched grace, would he turn his eyes to Noble Consort Yang?

The answer was obvious.

Yet such blunt words were unnecessary.

Consort Rong could only say, “Calm your mind. With the Second Prince there, His Majesty will surely feel some lingering affection.”

Yang replied bitterly, “If he truly felt affection, would he have separated me from my child?”

Consort Rong fell silent, unwilling to engage further. Yang dared to complain even about the Emperor—no one liked to be soaked in negativity, and His Majesty was not a man inclined to show understanding.

She had once been puzzled—Noble Consort Yang had done nothing wrong, so why did the Emperor grow more indifferent day by day?

Yet if Yang complained to him as she did to others, it was no wonder.

As dusk approached and the Court of Respect had already left for the Emperor’s presence, Noble Consort Yang finally excused herself.

Once the hall was quiet, Consort Rong pressed her palm to her forehead and sighed.

Yulu, burdened with the negative atmosphere, rubbed her temples, her mind drifting to Chu Qingwan. Her expression darkened slightly as she whispered, “She is indeed fortunate.”

Consort Rong’s expression softened. “If she chose to enter the palace, it wasn’t mere luck she relied upon.”

Yulu frowned. “But if she hadn’t entered, and with Master—”

Consort Rong suddenly looked up sharply at Yulu.

Yulu immediately fell silent.

Consort Rong’s face clouded. “You know why she entered—no need to speak of the past.”

Xie He Ci was her full brother. Though she had been in the palace for many years, any major family matters were still communicated to her. She knew of the tacit agreement between her family and the Chu family to arrange a marriage.

Had Chu Qingwan not been observing mourning, she might already have been her sister-in-law.

Yet the Empress Dowager had used the excuse of a shortage of palace heirs to hold a selection, and no one expected Consort Rong’s miscarriage would become Chu Qingwan’s opportunity to enter the palace.

Though the families had an understanding, marriage was a serious matter. Until finalized, no hint of it could leak out; otherwise, a change in circumstances might sully the reputations of the women involved.

Consort Rong closed her eyes and sighed. During Chu Qingwan’s three years of mourning, her mother had sent messages full of complaints, saying it was an ill-timed period of filial observance. They wished to arrange another match for Xie He Ci, but her brother had insisted.

Now, faced with this reality, Consort Rong was at a loss for words.

Everyone had their own standpoint. Regardless of Chu Qingwan’s intentions in entering the palace, Consort Rong could never bring herself to like her; after all, her own brother had been delayed for three years.

Thus, the near-marriage between Chu Qingwan and Xie He Ci had to remain secret. Otherwise, it would harm not only Chu Qingwan but also Xie He Ci.

Mutual detachment was the best outcome for both.

Yulu, born to the Xie family, naturally sided with them and murmured in discontent, “I heard that when Master learned the news, he sought to see her once but was turned away.”

Consort Rong was silent for a moment, then smiled bitterly. “Perhaps she truly belongs in this palace.”

Here, everyone schemed against one another; only those with a cold heart could survive.

Yulu was speechless but had to admit the mistress was right.

Consort Rong exhaled deeply and did not mention Chu Qingwan again. No matter how unjust she felt, she would not act against Chu Qingwan.

The two families had long-standing interests tangled together—these were not matters resolved quickly. Moreover, the ties that bind noble houses are never affection, but interest.

Chu Qingwan was unaware of Consort Rong’s thoughts. To her, the best way to get along with Consort Rong was to keep well apart.

She might have wronged Xie He Ci but never the Xie family.

She understood her father’s character; when he proposed the selection, the Xie family must have known and accepted the outcome.

As dusk deepened, night thickened and dissolved the day’s light. The evening breeze rustled through bamboo groves, bringing a slight chill.

Outside Jade Qiong Court, palace maids still stood watch. Lotus lamps flickered at the four corners of the palace walls. No word came from the Emperor’s presence for a long time. Some had already extinguished their lights and rested, but Chu Qingwan remained seated before the bronze mirror, carefully shaping her brows.

She had a premonition that perhaps tonight she would receive good news.

The palace maids of Jade Qiong Court shared her anticipation.

Upon hearing the announcement from the Court of Respect that the Emperor would visit Jade Qiong Court this night, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Chu Qingwan’s eyes trembled slightly; she was not so confident.

The hour was late. Chu Qingwan had already eaten dinner and washed up. Her black hair still dripped with water, gradually soaking the thin gauze dress she wore. The faint redness that had bloomed from her flushed skin now faded, lingering only between her undergarments, filling the chamber with a subtle, intoxicating fragrance.

Perhaps having met Xu Yanheng earlier that day, she no longer felt the nervousness of the previous night.

When news came of the Emperor’s arrival, she straightened her skirt before stepping out to greet him. As she lifted the double curtains, she glanced instinctively into the bronze mirror.

The woman reflected there bore a trace of unease, quickly suppressed. Finally, she curved her lips and stepped from the palace.

Xu Yanheng arrived just then to witness this scene.

Perhaps he came too early; her hair was still damp. Emerging from the hall to greet him, as the curtains parted, the pale moonlight eagerly spilled over her form. Under the bright moon, she lifted her gaze toward him. The sudden joy in her eyes and features seemed to ignite the dim night for a moment.

Xu Yanheng could not help but look up at the moonlight.

Tonight, the moon was indeed faint, yet it could not conceal the maiden’s exquisite beauty.

He stepped forward, blocking the woman as she bent to pay respects. In a low voice, he said, “No need for formalities.”

Chu Qingwan took his hand and rose, linking arms with him. Habitually playful and affectionate, she tugged slightly on his sleeve and whispered happily, “Your Majesty arrives early today.”

Compared to last night, any arrival time was early.

Xu Yanheng casually glanced at her sleeve, then led the way into the palace, seeming not to notice the coquettish complaint veiled in her words. A faint smile played on his lips.

“I happened to be free today.”

Wei Ziming involuntarily glanced at the Emperor’s retreating back. Free?

Chu Qingwan paid no heed to whether this was truth or pretense. That the Emperor willingly came early suggested his thoughts were not entirely elsewhere.

What those thoughts were, Chu Qingwan did not care to probe.

What mattered was whether she could capitalize on them to fulfill her wishes.

Once inside the chamber, Chu Qingwan saw their intimate posture reflected in the bronze mirror. Her fingers trembled but she resolutely entwined her hand with Xu Yanheng’s.

Her voice softened to a whisper: “Has Your Majesty dined?”

Given the place, time, and setting, the meaning behind the question was clear.

Before Wei Ziming could enter the inner hall, he halted and signaled others to withdraw. As the hall door closed, he seemed to overhear the Emperor’s low reply: “Not yet.”

Chu Qingwan faced away from the mirror and could no longer see the reflection. She lifted her head to meet the man’s gaze. The darkness in his eyes tightened her breath for a moment. Her thoughts scattered as she recalled Xu Yanheng’s answer. She hesitated, then murmured with difficulty:

“Then this humble one shall send for the meal...”

Suddenly, someone grasped her waist, pressing her against the dressing table. A hand slid down along her skin to the place where Chu Qingwan clenched her teeth. She heard his voice slowly drift from above:

“No rush.”