Chapter 20: The Departure of the Child

The wind stirred, scattering light and shadow across the morning sky as orioles sang from the branches, shattering the silence of dawn. After a night of wild abandon, he could barely discern what day it was, as if he had fallen into a confused, bewitching dream.

The morning drums atop Chengtian Gate had sounded countless times before Ji Ye, sleepless all night, opened his eyes and sat up. The warm chamber was already softly illuminated by the light filtering through the gauze windows.

Outside, the attendants—Mistress of Attire, Mistress of Adornment, the Scarlet Scribe, and Mistress of Arrangements—had waited, bowing low, prepared to dress and adorn him, to bathe and groom him, to record the consorts who had accompanied him through the night, to make his bed, and to tidy the chamber.

He rose, casually picking up the undergarment that had fallen in front of the couch and draping it over himself. His expression returned to its usual refined serenity, as though the chaos of the night before had been nothing but a dream. His features were as flawless as lamb-fat jade, making him seem like a lotus to be admired from afar, never profaned. Now, with his back to the bed, he calmly replaced his diadem, his face unruffled.

He intended to summon his attendants to help him dress and wash, for the morning court would convene soon, yet he could not resist turning his head.

Since regaining clarity, this was the first time he truly looked at Daidai, though she had always slept beside his pillow.

She lay curled on the inner side of the bed, her bare body mottled with crimson marks—shocking to behold. Each trace seemed as if a demon had etched it into his heart through his eyes.

His expression chilled, his hand behind his back unconsciously clenched into a fist.

His cool gaze traced her graceful back to her face, and the harshness gradually faded away. On her alluring body rested a face of innocence and purity.

A faint, satisfied smile played at her lips, like a child who had received a sweet. Hours of imperial favor meant little to her; what was past was past. She expected neither affection, nor power, nor status from it.

He did not know when he had seated himself by her side, but now his hand gently smoothed her disheveled hair, his features softening.

He knew well enough in his heart—You Daidai was blameless. He had summoned her only on a rash impulse, merely to vent his frustrations.

He still could not master his own temper.

You Jiang could still not be recalled. The campaign had dragged on for two years, and victory was in sight; he could not let it slip away.

Daidai’s small nose twitched, catching his scent. Unconscious, she snuggled closer, resting her head on his thigh and burrowing into his embrace, her whole body pressed against him.

Ji Ye returned to himself, his fingers tracing down her spine, massaging gently at the base, coaxing forth the turbid liquid that had filled her after last night.

He took a torn red sash and wiped her clean, then slowly gathered the tangled hair from her nape. His face was calm, but his eyes held a flicker of guilt as he sighed softly, speaking low, “If your father returns triumphant, I should grant him a king’s title. Then your place as empress would be unassailable.”

“Your Majesty, it’s time for morning court.”

Outside, Li Fuquan, restless with impatience, called softly.

Ji Ye settled Daidai, composed his features, and rose to leave. Opening the door, he stopped the attendants from flooding in, saying simply, “Summon the ladies-in-waiting who serve your mistress to attend her. The hour is late; keep everything simple.”

None dared protest, and they attended him with quiet efficiency as he washed and dressed.

Li Fuquan bowed and hurried to fetch Qiuyun and Chunmo, who had kept watch outside the hall through the long night.

While Ji Ye’s hair was being combed, the Scarlet Scribe inquired, “Your Majesty, shall I record this?”

“No need. This time… keep silent. If I discover rumors damaging to the empress spreading outside, you would do well to guard your own lives.”

The Scarlet Scribe stammered an anxious assent and dared not approach again.

Once the dragon robes and crown were donned, Ji Ye asked, “Li Fuquan, is Lady Liu still here?”

“Your Majesty, without your orders, I dared not act on my own. Lady Liu has waited in the side hall all this time.”

“You did well. Announce my decree: Lady Liu is promoted to Lady of Grace. As of today, she moves out of the Lesser Court and is granted residence in the side hall of the Longevity Palace. She shall be styled Xiu, for her delicate beauty pleases me greatly.”

With that, he lifted his eyes and strode out. Daylight now shone bright outside; he was already late for court.

The side hall, shadowed from the morning sun, remained dim even as dawn broke. Lady Xiu sat on her couch all through the night, her limbs stiff, her whole body chilled, despair written across her face.

She was a concubine’s daughter from the Liu Chancellor’s household, half-sister to the Noble Consort. Yesterday was her first time serving the imperial table. According to custom, if she pleased His Majesty, last night should have been her wedding night—but she had ruined everything.

The emperor took no interest in her, not even smiling at her once. Contrary to her sister’s assurances, he was neither gentle nor affectionate.

The red candles in the side hall had burned through the night, leaving a thick layer of wax on the table. Her heart, once so full of anticipation, now felt as if it too had been coated with hot wax—tormented and suffocating.

In the harem, beauties bloomed and withered like the flowers in the imperial gardens, year after year, each with only a fleeting chance to catch the emperor’s eye.

Now, thanks to her legitimate sister, she had this opportunity—was she to wither before she ever truly bloomed?

She had wept all night; by dawn, her tears had dried, and her face was lifeless. All she wanted now was to know who had ruined her chance.

Amid the pallor of her face, only her eyes burned with a new, fierce resolve.

“Lady, good news!”

“What good news could there be? I’m lucky not to have been sent to the Cold Palace.” Lady Xiu wiped her face carelessly, her voice icy. “Did you find out what I asked? Did His Majesty sleep alone last night, or was someone else summoned?”

This maid had served Lady Xiu since her entry into the palace. Now, returning with tidings, her face was alight with joy. She hurried to report, “Lady—no, I should address you as Lady of Grace now—though I couldn’t learn who ruined your plans, I did hear something wonderful. You have indeed been promoted. The maids who serve His Majesty say that after court, orders will be given to have the wardrobe mistress measure you and embroider the appropriate court attire for a Lady of Grace. And, what’s more, His Majesty has bestowed a title upon you—‘Xiu’—for your beauty and gentleness have greatly pleased him, and you are granted residence in the side hall of Longevity Palace.”

“Cailing, is all this true?!” The newly appointed Lady of Grace sprang to her feet in excitement, her eyes instantly reddening.

To ascend from hell to paradise was no more dizzying than this. Her emotions soared and plunged, leaving her lightheaded as she collapsed back onto the bed.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, uncontrollable in her joy. “So His Majesty does like me after all. I don’t have to suffer in the Cold Palace.”

In this moment, she had completely forgotten the one who’d ruined her plans. To be unexpectedly promoted to the third rank was enough to keep her elated for days.

In the Jade Radiance Palace, the Noble Consort sat in the waterside pavilion brewing tea. She, too, was curious about the woman who had captivated the emperor for half a day and a night, though she felt no sense of crisis.

A worthless servant girl—should she become a nuisance, someone would deal with her.

And her A-Ye was not an emperor to be easily swayed by emotion, much less inclined to protect anyone with care.

All the female officials and eunuchs in the Hall of Primal Origin answered directly to Ji Ye. Their loyalty was beyond question, and more importantly, they knew when to speak and when to keep silent. Rarely did any news from the hall reach the ears of the consorts—except for the Noble Consort.

After all, she managed the Bureau of Attendants, and the Scarlet Scribe, who recorded the emperor’s nights with consorts, concubines, and maids, was long devoted to her.

“Good afternoon, Noble Consort.”

“Jincui, you’ve come. Sit,” the Noble Consort said with a smile, receiving her as one would a long-lost friend.

In truth, their relationship was not unlike old friends. Jincui had been the first close maid she’d met upon entering the palace as a talent, and their bond was remarkable. Now that Jincui had risen to the position of Scarlet Scribe, the Noble Consort’s help was indispensable.

Yet ordinarily, the Noble Consort never summoned her. In the eyes of others, the two maintained a discreet distance.

“Thank you for the seat, my lady. I dare not linger, lest I bring you trouble. Whatever you wish to ask, I understand.” With that, Jincui stepped forward, dipped her finger in tea, and wrote two characters on the purple sandalwood table.

The Noble Consort stared at them, her heart tightening. The teacup slipped from her hand, tea splashing everywhere.

“Impossible. How could it be? A-Ye loathes her so deeply.”