Chen Shao stepped out of the duty room and saw four or five people standing under the corridor, whispering about something while glancing toward the inner palace.
He deliberately quickened his pace, and those people hurriedly turned around.
“What are you doing?” Chen Shao asked with a frown.
They hesitated for a moment before one of them stepped forward.
“It seems something has happened in the palace,” he said.
Chen Shao’s face immediately darkened.
Something happened in the palace? And he didn’t know about it?
“A consort fell,” the man hurriedly added.
Utter nonsense! That counts as something happening?
Chen Shao was just about to speak when someone came running over, and upon seeing them gathered, waved excitedly.
“I know, I know – it was Consort An who fell!” he shouted.
Only after shouting did he notice several people in the group winking and making throat-cutting gestures at him. Then he spotted Chen Shao standing among them, and instantly stopped in his tracks, looking embarrassed.
However, Chen Shao didn’t reprimand him. Instead, looking slightly surprised, he stepped forward.
“Consort An?” he asked.
The man let out a breath and nodded quickly.
“Yes, Consort An – she accidentally slipped down the steps,” he said.
“And the child…” Chen Shao asked.
The atmosphere in the Empress Dowager’s palace was tense, filled with cries and shouts.
The concubines gathered under the corridor all kept their heads lowered, occasionally lifting their eyes to sneak a look inside the hall. No one spoke; only a few fleeting glances were exchanged, and from those looks one could tell their expressions were very strange.
The hall doors were tightly shut, with the Emperor, Empress, and Empress Dowager all inside.
The Empress Dowager sat there pale-faced, muttering under her breath.
The Empress looked somewhat gloomy; her hands, clenched tightly before her, revealed her nervousness and worry.
On the other side, the Emperor paced back and forth, listening to the cries and shouts coming from inside.
“Can’t you handle it or not?” he shouted, lifting his foot as if to go in. The palace maids who had been instructed quickly stopped him, kneeling to beg him not to enter.
The Emperor could only turn back angrily and continue pacing.
“Your Majesty, please summon Lady Cheng.”
The Empress’s voice rang out.
Lady Cheng?
The Emperor turned his head toward her. The Empress sat there, her already frail face growing even paler, her voice trembling.
“Your Majesty, I…” She looked at him, seemingly unable to suppress her emotions any longer, tears spilling out. “I can’t take it anymore. Please ask Lady Cheng to come – can’t she bring people back from the brink of death?”
“Empress, don’t talk nonsense. What are you saying!” the Empress Dowager beside her snapped, opening her eyes.
Seeing the Empress like that, the Emperor couldn’t help feeling a pang in his heart.
Afraid…
So afraid…
Those fragile children were like sand in his hand – trying to hold on to them, to keep them, was so terribly difficult.
“Summon Lady Cheng…” the Emperor turned and called outward.
Before he even finished speaking, Consort An’s cries from inside suddenly stopped.
Inside the hall, the Emperor, Empress, and Empress Dowager all held their breath and looked toward the inner chamber.
Doctor Li walked out.
“Doctor Li, is there no hope?” the Emperor asked directly.
If there was no hope, then he could go summon that Lady Cheng.
From the Emperor’s tone, Doctor Li understood exactly what he meant. He wanted to smile, but he knew this was not the time – besides, he couldn’t smile even if he tried.
“Your Majesty, there is no saving her, but there is no need to summon Lady Cheng,” he said.
Behind him, the midwife from the Imperial Medical Institute knelt with her head lowered.
“Your Majesty, Consort An has given birth to a prince, but… it was already a stillborn child,” she said.
Nightfall shrouded the palace.
Although the palace was brightly lit, the sheer number of buildings made it appear gloomy. The summer wind echoed between the halls, carrying a faint wailing sound that only deepened the eeriness – especially today, when the crying carried on the wind felt all too real.
Favored and pampered, Consort An had lost the imperial prince today – the prince the Emperor had so eagerly awaited and cherished.
When she woke, Consort An cried as though she wished for death. She refused medicine, refused food, desperate to end her life. At this moment, countless people were stationed in the palace to watch over her.
The Emperor was not keeping vigil by Consort An’s side. In fact, the moment he heard the imperial doctor and the midwife report that the child was stillborn, he no longer approached her chamber.
At night, the Hall of Diligent Governance looked even more desolate amid the outer palaces. In the summer heat, the doors and windows were tightly shut. The eunuchs waiting under the corridor outside were filled with anxiety, yet none dared to push open the doors – until, from afar, a group of people approached carrying lanterns.
“It’s the Empress – Her Majesty the Empress.”
The eunuchs recognized the figure approaching and whispered in surprise, hurrying forward to greet her.
Without waiting for an announcement, the Empress pushed the door open and entered the hall.
Inside, only two lamps were lit, casting a dim glow. The Emperor sat in the dragon throne, and when he heard the door open and someone come in, he didn’t even lift his head. His hand supported his forehead, eyes closed, as though he were asleep.
“Your Majesty, please go back and rest,” the Empress said.
The Emperor responded with a quiet “Mm.”
“I’ll stay a little longer. If I look a bit more today, there will be a little less to deal with tomorrow,” he said calmly.
His voice and thoughts were clear.
The Empress walked to his side, knelt down, and gently took the Emperor’s hand.
“Your Majesty, these affairs of state won’t lessen just because you look at more of them today,” she said softly. “The more you read today, won’t there simply be more sent in tomorrow?”
The Emperor chuckled and opened his eyes.
“So according to the Empress, the less I read, the fewer state affairs there will be?” he said.
The Empress smiled and tightened her hold on his hand.
“What I mean is that Your Majesty shouldn’t rush – take things slowly,” she said.
The Emperor reached out and patted her hand.
“I can’t afford not to rush. Time waits for no one,” he said.
The Empress shook her head as she looked at him.
“Your Majesty, there is still a long road ahead,” she said. “Look, I was ill for so long, and now I’m slowly getting better. Your Majesty, you must stay with me; I will stay with you. We can walk slowly, together, for a long, long time. Your Majesty, don’t rush, and don’t be afraid. I’m here. I will stay by your side.”
He could walk for a long time still?
He had once believed that too. Look at him – this body that was constantly plagued by illnesses large and small had somehow managed to conceive a child again.
He thought it was Heaven’s acknowledgement of his strength, of his resilience. But it turned out… it wasn’t.
That child was gone as well.
Gone…
From the moment he became an adult, having an heir had become the single most important hope in his life. Yet time after time, hope was followed by disappointment.
Looking back now, it seemed his entire life consisted only of these two emotions – hope and disappointment, weaving and repeating endlessly. From beginning to end, it had never changed.
It always ended in disappointment. And yet, why could he never get used to it? Why did he still, somehow, want to hope?
“Your Majesty, let us go back and rest,” the Empress said as she stood up, still holding tightly to the Emperor’s hand. “You must rest. You are not just yourself – so many people depend on you: me, Liu Ge’er, the Empress Dowager…”
Liu Ge’er…
A shiver ran through the Emperor.
“Father, Father, I know which one is the great river…”
“Father, when I grow up, I’ll walk the map. I’ll walk it for you, Father…”
Liu Ge’er… my Liu Ge’er…
Yes. He could not rush, nor could he fear. If something happened to him, what would become of Liu Ge’er? Others could take care of themselves, but his Liu Ge’er could not…
His Liu Ge’er would depend on others for his entire life…
The Emperor’s eyes finally grew hot and stung. He lifted his head and stood up with her.
“Yes. Rest. Tomorrow’s matters can be handled tomorrow,” he said with a smile. “The Empress speaks words of true wisdom.”
The Empress gave a small smile.
“Even words of wisdom need someone who can understand them,” she said.
The Emperor smiled, nodded, and said no more as he lifted his foot to step forward.
The Empress followed behind him. The eunuchs waiting outside the door breathed a collective sigh of relief, and the atmosphere lightened instantly as they raised their lanterns to light the way.
But just after stepping outside, the Emperor paused.
“Who is on duty at the Imperial City Guard today?” he asked.
Immediately, a eunuch hurried over.
“Your Majesty, it is I, He Zheng,” he replied.
“He Zheng?” the Emperor repeated, then smiled. “That’s a good name.”
He Zheng quickly bowed in gratitude.
“Very well, He Zheng, investigate the incident concerning Consort An today,” the Emperor commanded.
As soon as these words were spoken, the scene froze instantly, as if even the night wind had stilled.
“Your Majesty,” the Empress said softly, reaching out to gently tug at the Emperor’s sleeve. “It was merely an accident.”
The Emperor took her hand, lifted his foot, and stepped forward.
“There have been too many accidents. I do not wish to see any more.”
At this time, the Cheng family’s courtyard was more brightly lit than usual. Because of the need to arrange Cheng Jiao-niang’s wedding, Fan Jianglin and Lady Huang had also moved in. With more people, the residence felt livelier day and night.
“You can’t stay up late anymore, Ban Qin – I can see your eyes are red from exhaustion…”
“No, the bride’s gown must be finished on time…”
“But you don’t have to be the one doing the embroidery.”
“I need to keep an eye on it, or I won’t feel at ease.”
The two maids chatted and laughed as they walked, feeling as though even the lanterns swaying in the night breeze were smiling.
After so long, they could finally experience the excitement and joy of such an occasion.
One of the maids sighed inwardly. Ever since coming to serve this young lady, she had tasted all kinds of emotions – fright, sorrow, worry, and unease – but the kind of happiness that an ordinary girl should experience had long been absent.
Though it had come a little late, it was still far better than never arriving at all.
She looked up at Cheng Jiao-niang walking gracefully ahead and quickened her pace to catch up.
“Miss, should we send word to First Master Cheng and the others now?” she asked.
No sooner had she spoken than she saw Cheng Jiao-niang stop in her tracks and raise her head slightly toward the night sky.
“There’s no need,” she said, lifting her hand to point toward the starry expanse. “Look -the timing, the conditions, and the people are all perfectly aligned.”
As dawn broke, Chen Shao walked out and saw that breakfast was already set on the table.
“Are you going to visit Lady Cheng again?” Madam Chen asked.
“I won’t be going,” Chen Shao replied, eating slowly before pausing. “Just make the wedding gift more generous.”
Madam Chen smiled.
“Of course,” she said, and began discussing with him what she planned to give.
As the couple was talking, a servant hurried in from outside, whispered a few words to Chen Shao, and then withdrew after Chen Shao nodded.
Chen Shao continued eating.
“As for the wedding gift, there’s no need to rush for now,” he added after setting down his chopsticks.
Madam Chen’s expression tightened in alarm.
“Has something happened?” she asked, her hand trembling slightly as she held her chopsticks.
There had been far too many incidents involving Lady Cheng – so many surprises, so many unforeseen events, so much constant anxiety. Ever since learning that Duke Jin’an had sought to marry her and that both the Emperor and the Empress Dowager had agreed, Madam Chen had prayed fervently, hoping that this time nothing would go wrong.
Yet, every time she thought about it, the same worry surfaced again and again: Would things really go smoothly this time? Would they?
And now, it seemed her fears were justified…
Should she resign herself to this outcome, as if she had expected it all along, or should she scold herself for having tempted fate?
“Nothing’s wrong,” Chen Shao replied, shaking his head. After a pause, he added, “Consort An’s son passed away yesterday.”
Consort An’s son – gone?
“How could that happen?” Madam Chen asked in shock.
Everyone had heard how much the Emperor valued this unborn child. With such imperial favor, one would expect the utmost care – how could he suddenly be gone?
“It’s not as if he’s the only one we’ve lost,” Chen Shao said. “There’s nothing particularly unusual about it.”
Offspring had always been rare for this Emperor. Among those who were safely born and successfully raised, only one son remained.
While the loss of a child was a significant matter for the Emperor, for court officials like them, it made little difference how many were lost – as long as one heir remained to inherit the empire, it was enough.
Madam Chen made a soft sound of acknowledgment and nodded.
“But what does this have to do with Jiao-niang?” she then asked urgently.
Chen Shao frowned.
“What does it have to do with her?” he retorted.
Madam Chen was taken aback for a moment, then chuckled at her own reaction.
Indeed, what did it have to do with her!
“I’ve become so overly anxious,” she said with a laugh. “I’m constantly afraid something will go wrong again.”
Chen Shao nodded and took a sip of broth.
“Still, it will have some impact,” he remarked. “The Emperor’s mood will be poor, and the wedding will likely be postponed.”
But that, after all, was a minor matter.
The couple continued chatting about everyday affairs.
In contrast to the calm in Chen Shao’s home, the dining table in Gao Lingjun’s hall was in complete disarray – bowls, chopsticks, cups, and dishes were scattered about, clearly thrown and smashed.
“Why was I only told about this now!” Gao Lingjun roared, his face dark with fury and twisted in rage.
The servants and advisers in front of him trembled in fear.
“Sir, this matter originally had nothing to do with Her Highness…” one of the servants whispered.
Before he could finish, Gao Lingjun struck him with a slap, sending him stumbling to the ground.
“Nothing to do with Her Highness?” Gao Lingjun shouted, his face flushed and eyebrows raised in anger. “Then who is it that’s been imprisoned now?”
