Lately, the winds in the palace had shifted. The long-neglected Fengyi Palace had suddenly drawn the emperor’s attention. One had to know when the empress first entered the palace, during the first two or three months, it was only through the empress dowager’s mediation that the emperor was persuaded to visit her at all. The current emperor was devoted to state affairs, pouring most of his energy into the court; he seldom spent the night in the harem to begin with. Only Noble Consort Xu was an exception. When she first entered the palace, the emperor stayed with her for half a month straight. Even when busy, he still spent six or seven nights in a month resting at Jianjia Palace.
After she became pregnant, she did not suffer even the slightest neglect. All kinds of fresh vegetables and delicacies flowed endlessly into Jianjia Palace. She held absolute favor in the harem, shining beyond compare. Even Consort Hui ranked above the empress; Consort Hui had been handpicked by the empress dowager when the emperor was fifteen. Gentle and quiet in temperament, with delicate features, she had been the only notable favorite before Noble Consort Xu entered the palace, receiving the emperor two or three times a month at most.
Yet even such a woman was valued more than the empress. Half a year ago, the emperor had resisted the marriage fiercely, refusing to hold the grand wedding. But now, only months after entering the palace, the empress was already catching up to Noble Consort Xu, who had grown up with the emperor. None of the other palaces dared slight her, and in their hearts they felt a subtle, indescribable envy.
Noble Consort Xu, who should have felt the greatest threat, instead remained secluded, focused solely on her pregnancy and unwilling to meddle or compete. She herself was unhurried, but Princess Yang’a, who often entered the palace, could not bear watching. After visiting the empress dowager at Shoucheng Hall, she headed straight for Jianjia Palace, scolding with disappointment: “You truly have no sense of crisis. Don’t assume the emperor will always care for you, or that the empress dowager will always favor you. With time, a person’s heart only has so much space. When others squeeze in, what belongs to you will shrink. If you wait until then, anything you say will be too late.”
Princess Yang’a had played a significant role in bringing the emperor and Noble Consort Xu together; not only to please her imperial brother, but also out of genuine desire to help her friend rise, supporting each other mutually. They were now on the same boat. The empress posed a threat to Noble Consort Xu, and she could not help feeling anxious.
“Sit on the heated couch, Sister. It’s warm beside the brazier.” Noble Consort Xu was five to six months pregnant, her belly high and pointed, making movement somewhat inconvenient. After Princess Yang’a sat down, Noble Consort Xu personally lifted a tea bowl from the red lacquer tray Guyu had brought and handed it to her with a smile: “So that’s why you and the Prince Consort are inseparable all day long? Because you want to keep every bit of his heart for yourself, without giving even the slightest share to anyone else?”
The Princess Consort, Dong Min, came from an unremarkable background. His father, Dong Huang, excelled at scheming, sending his beautiful daughters to powerful nobles in Wu as gifts to gain connections and benefits. Princess Yang’a had fallen for Dong Min at first sight during a banquet; her heart had collapsed without warning. But the Dong family’s conduct was widely despised, and the empress dowager strongly opposed her daughter marrying into such a household. Forced to separate from her lover, the princess fell gravely ill and nearly died. Out of heartache, the empress dowager reluctantly purchased an official position for Dong Min. Five years after marrying a princess, once she gave birth to their first son, Dong Min was finally granted the title Anyi Marquis.
Though the empress dowager disliked this son-in-law, the princess treasured him dearly and no wonder. Dong Min had the looks of Pan An, tall and handsome, talented and gentle. Many admired him; fortunately, the princess acted quickly to secure him. With such a bee-attracting husband, she watched him closely, barely turning away before sending someone to check what he was doing. When he returned to his hometown for his mother’s funeral, the princess worried so much she humbled herself to accompany the funeral procession, a notable event in Wu.
Warmth spread through Princess Yang’a’s body after a sip of hot tea. She shot Noble Consort Xu a glare and scolded playfully: “I’m talking to you seriously, and you turn it into a joke. It’s true, don’t think that just because you don’t fight or compete, always thinking of others, others will keep you in their hearts. The emperor is busy with state affairs and has always been lukewarm toward the harem. Some people can’t wait for you to settle quietly so they can monopolize his favor.”
Her words contained clear implications. Noble Consort Xu understood. She lowered her eyes, a gentle and warm smile blooming on her lips, and changed the topic: “The little one in my belly kicked today. The imperial physician said he should have moved in the third or fourth month, but this lazy one only recently bothered to greet me. Sister, come feel, he’s moving again.”
Princess Yang’a’s attention was instantly drawn. She stepped off the footstool and walked to Noble Consort Xu’s side, recalling her own pregnancy with her eldest son. The two women huddled together discussing motherhood.
Princess Yang’a rarely visited Fengyi Palace, maybe three times out of ten, but she frequently visited Jianjia Palace. Any other empress would surely feel displeased at being slighted so openly. But Meng Guqing did not mind. Whether or not Princess Yang’a came, others always would. Today’s visitor, a titled lady, had connections with the Meng family. Her husband’s family was a famous noble clan from Gaochang, following the late emperor in his rise, earning great merits, and later assisting in governing after the founding of the Wu dynasty.
During the regency, when the Regent held all power, He Yong, through wisdom and finesse, neither got pushed aside nor overly offended the regent, maintaining a stable position. After the regent’s death, trusted and respected, he was appointed by the empress dowager, ennobled as a first-rank duke and serving as Senior Minister and Minister of Personnel. His wife rose accordingly in status and influence. Meng Guqing, still considered a new bride in the capital, naturally would not ignore such a visit. And a titled lady of this rank would not come without purpose.
Fortunately, the matter was not major. Her young grandson had mentioned a certain young lady from Gaochang. The girl had been raised in her hometown, and the marriage was arranged by her grandfather and Minister He. The Madam doted on her grandson and feared he might be mistreated, so among all the people one could inquire about in the entire capital, the empress was the most suitable. Thick-skinned, she had come.
Madam He was in her fifties or sixties, plump and dignified, with a noble grace. Her smile was kind and amiable. Since it was rare for her to come, Meng Guqing invited her to stay for a meal. Though Meng herself did not clearly remember that young lady, Fusang and Caiwei were familiar with the noble families of Gaochang and their daughters’ reputations. They answered Madam He’s questions well enough that her visit was not in vain. After lingering in Fengyi Palace for over two hours, Madam He left smiling.
Satisfied with the information she obtained, Madam He departed. Caiwei, having enjoyed her fill of gossip, still felt unsated even long after. “People from home really are straightforward. Madam He has been in the capital for so many years, yet she still speaks the Gaochang dialect so fluently and without any airs. Truly rare.”
Fusang added, “Indeed. The few of us always speak the official tongue together. Hearing her thick hometown accent today… it almost made me homesick.”
Both Fusang and Caiwei were household servants from the Meng family. Although they followed Meng Guqing to the capital as part of her dowry and managed her properties, the palace was difficult to enter, and they had not seen many familiar faces for a long time. Meng Guqing patted Fusang’s hand. “After the New Year, they should enter the palace. I’ll have you accompany me then.”
The two women immediately expressed thanks. Looking at the sky, it was only around xu hour, but night had nearly fallen. A fierce wind swept snow grains into the red lanterns at the palace doors. When Zhao Donglin entered, he brushed past the palace maids carrying food boxes. With long strides he reached the empress, smiling: “Who visited today? You had the imperial kitchen prepare so many dishes.”
Meng Guqing stepped forward and unfastened his dark-blue snow cloak. Her hand accidentally brushed his cheek, the smooth young skin cold like ice. Before she could pull away, he seized her hand and pressed it to his face, smiling: “So cold, my teeth are chattering. Warm me, Empress.”
With a sweep of his gaze, he saw the palace maids exiting in an orderly fashion under Caiwei’s lead. Fusang laid out a set of casual robes on the embroidered couch before withdrawing with Caiwei to prepare hot water and soap. Zhao Donglin lowered his head, watching as the empress removed his sachet, jade pendants, and ornaments. Her soft warm hands brushed over his body; her cloud-black hair made her snow-white face look even fairer, the hint of rouge on her cheeks matching the gleam of her red lips, so perfect that a bit more would be too seductive; a bit less, too plain.
He leaned in and inhaled the scent unique to her, intoxicated, smiling: “You smell wonderful. What did you use today?”
Meng Guqing lifted her gaze and pushed his chin aside. While he moved closer again, she snatched a cloud-patterned auspicious enamel box from the dressing table, opened it, scooped a pale-blue ointment with her fingertip, and swiftly smeared it onto his face. Caught off guard, Zhao Donglin felt her warm fingertips spreading a cool substance across his cheek. The sting from the cold wind faded, replaced by softness and comfort and the scent matched the fragrance on her cheeks.
Before he recovered, Meng Guqing stepped back two paces and turned toward the door. “Your Majesty, wash up quickly. The dishes will get cold.”
Half-treated then abandoned, how annoying. The young emperor rubbed his face twice and chased after her into the living quarters, grabbing her hand. “You still haven’t told me, who came to Fengyi Palace today? What did they want from you?”
After seating Zhao Donglin at the head of the table and laying out chopsticks and a soup spoon, Meng Guqing answered casually, “Madam He. She asked me about a certain young lady from Gaochang…”
The moment he heard “Madam He,” a cold light flashed through Zhao Donglin’s dark eyes. In his memory, Madam He was a favored side consort of Jing Wang, his cousin. During the years when Jing Wangfei was bedridden, Madam He managed the affairs of the prince’s household and became someone the noblewomen of the capital competed to befriend. That the noblewomen flocked to her was one thing, but the reason Zhao Donglin reacted so sharply to her visit had everything to do with Jing Wang.
Jing Wang, Zhao Yuanwang, was the younger brother, born of the same mother, of the Regent, Zhao Yuanxu. Skilled in martial arts and archery, he followed the regent in his youth, achieving great military merit and becoming one of the regent’s trusted confidants. During the late emperor’s reign, he was fierce and loyal. Yet toward his nephew, the young emperor Zhao Donglin, he was nothing but defiant. In the past two years, he had colluded with nobles of Donghu, holding tightly onto military power, faintly forming a rival faction against the emperor. If not for the empress dowager and He Yong smoothing things over, uncle and nephew would have already clashed countless times.
So upon hearing Madam He’s name, Zhao Donglin immediately thought of Jing Wang. After the regent’s death, it had also been Jing Wang who insisted he follow the so-called “last wish” and marry a Donghu noblewoman as empress. Since the empress had been brought in by Jing Wang’s faction, her closeness to them was natural but hearing that Madam He visited her still made him inexplicably uncomfortable. The subtle, complicated feeling of someone he liked standing with his opponents made it impossible for him to control his expression.
Meng Guqing was perceptive as ever, how could she not know who the young emperor’s greatest rival and hidden threat was? Seeing the slight tightening of his lips, she could already guess seven or eight parts of the truth. She calmly walked back to her seat and continued, “…Lord He’s little grandson is betrothed to Gaochang’s General Liang’s young lady. Madam He was worried and came to ask me about Miss Liang’s appearance and temperament. My two maids happen to know her better, so we chatted for a while.”
Hm? If he remembered correctly, all four of Jing Wang’s grown sons were already married, and Madam He’s only son was just seven years old. Zhao Donglin blinked and realized, right, the wife of Council Minister He Yong was also addressed as “Madam He.” That family had a most outstanding grandson, strong enough to draw a hundred-jin longbow, and he’d even earned military merit accompanying Jing Wang in the southern campaign against Zhao Shicheng. Seventeen this year… the perfect age for marriage negotiations.
The air grew somewhat heavy. Zhao Donglin looked across the table at the Empress, but even after a long moment, he couldn’t get so much as a glance from her. His heart grew uneasy, not because he distrusted her, but because the shadows of past experiences still lingered. The Regent might be gone, but the power Jing Wang left behind was not to be underestimated…
Meng Guqing finished her bowl of polished rice slowly; when she felt about eighty to ninety percent full, she set her chopsticks down. Across from her, Zhao Donglin, who had been quietly observing her the whole time, paused his movements, then put his own chopsticks down and personally ladled a bowl of wild pheasant chick soup. He placed it by her hand, not looking directly at her, and spoke with a tone that was half tentative, half hopeful: “I’m not full yet. If the Empress would drink another bowl of soup with me, and keep me company a while longer…”
The jade bowl gleamed with green cabbage floating in clear broth, dotted with tiny beads of oil, just the way Meng Guqing preferred it. She didn’t like greasy soups, nor did she care for red dates, goji berries, or any other additives. Usually Fusang was the one who prepared her meals and knew her tastes best. Clearly, the young emperor had noticed and remembered. Seeing him now eating slowly while stealing glances at her from the corner of his eye, Meng Guqing, who hadn’t truly planned to leave anyway, lifted the bowl and took a small, delicate sip.
When she drank, his face brightened into a radiant smile. Emboldened, he asked playfully, “Does it taste good? It looked quite nice, would the Empress ladle a bowl for me too?”
Meng Guqing couldn’t help but let out a helpless sigh. Sensitive and suspicious one moment, humble and fawning the next, such was he. Luckily, she had long trained herself to maintain a calm temperament; otherwise, life with him would have been… quite lively, to say the least.
Author’s Note:
Note Author provides a little spoiler. Do not read if you do not want to be spoiled!!!
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First—the male lead. I didn’t want to spoil things, but as someone who has suffered from backing the wrong CP before, I’ll say it outright. The young emperor’s character arc is a serious “growth of an emperor” path. We all know what emperors were like in history, how many of them were truly good men? So, he’s not suitable for the heroine.
As for the heroine’s official partner, let’s just say I’m quite fond of him: handsome, brooding, and this story, from both perspectives, is one where the woman is not pure, but the man is.
That’s the key point. If you’re still enjoying it, then let’s keep walking this road together. Thank you for reading ❤️
