Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 138: True Heart

   One cup of wine beneath the moon; drinking alone, yet it feels like three.

Under the same moon, Yangxin Hall held two shadows facing each other, while in the cool pavilion of the Fucha residence, Fuheng sat alone.

“Young Master,” Qinglian entered the pavilion carrying a cloak in her arms. “You’ve had too much to drink…”

At Fuheng’s feet lay seven or eight empty wine jugs. He poured himself another cup, threw his head back, and drained it in one go. Then, half-drunk and half-sober, he laughed. “Today was the first time I ever schemed against His Majesty. That deserves a toast.”

Qinglian was stunned. “Schemed against His Majesty?”

Glug glug—the wine poured into the cup again. Fuheng smiled. “Yingluo caught Xiaoquanzi stealing. Using him, she planted stolen goods during the palace market and dragged Noble Consort Chun into the mess—that was the first step. Then she deliberately held back and did nothing, letting Concubine Xiaojia believe she had gotten away with it. She used Xiaoquanzi’s weakness to turn the tables and bite Concubine Xiaojia back—that was the second step. But those two moves alone were far from enough. Though she is favored, she has always carried one hidden danger.”

Qinglian: “What Young Master means is—Concubine Ling’s past?”

Fuheng tilted his head back again, and another cup of wine was emptied. One cup after another, he became drunk, and the words hidden deep in his heart slipped out unconsciously:

“I once pleaded before the Emperor for marriage, and for Yingluo’s sake I repeatedly contradicted him. That left a thorn in the Emperor’s heart. When I return from the battlefield, the Emperor will surely still harbor resentment. He is an emperor, but he is also a man…”

Qinglian nodded as if she understood but didn’t fully understand.

Let alone an emperor—even an ordinary man would not tolerate his wife having an affair with another man.

“…Moreover, this man is his own wife’s younger brother, his most trusted confidant,” Fuheng said faintly. “As long as this thorn remains, no matter how favored Concubine Ling is, she will always be walking on thin ice, in constant danger! Rather than that, it would be better to pull out the thorn herself…”

“Young Master…”

“I’m here.” Fuheng raised his drunken, hazy eyes to look at her; his gaze was gentler than the moonlight. “Yingluo, as long as you need me, I will be here, no matter in what form.”

Qinglian was startled. What did he just call her? Yingluo… Concubine Ling?

She had always felt something was strange before, even harboring a tiny bit of expectation. Among all the maids in the Fucha residence, Fuheng treated her differently from the others. She didn’t know why, and neither did anyone else; there had been plenty of private speculation. Only today did everything finally become clear.

“Is it my eyes, my appearance, or my voice?” Qinglian wondered to herself. “Which part of me… looks like Concubine Ling?”

“Are you doing well now?” Fuheng asked her softly. “Have you… obtained everything you wished for?”

Qinglian remained silent for a long time before cautiously reaching out and gently placing her hand on the back of his.

“I’m fine,” she replied softly. Even if only for this moment, even if only right now, she wanted to become Concubine Ling, so that he could treat her with such tenderness.

“That’s good.” Fuheng seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. With drunken, bleary eyes he looked at her. “As long as I can help you, that’s enough. Rest assured—I’ve already done everything I could for you. The Emperor has now tasted what defeat, jealousy, and longing feel like… all of them firsts in his life. Once he has experienced these, he will…”

As he spoke, he slowly slumped forward onto the table, burying his face and expression in his own arms, murmuring:

“…truly place you in his heart…”

In the past, you were merely a favored consort. From now on, you will be the woman the Emperor truly holds in his heart.

The wine cup on the table was pushed by him and fell to the ground with a clink.

Qinglian hurriedly bent down to pick it up, then softly called him: “Young Master… Young Master…”

The only response was faint snoring.

Qinglian gazed at him quietly. After a long while, she gently draped the cloak in her hands over him and said in a low voice:

“But Young Master, this is really too unfair to you. The Emperor gained your loyalty from you, Concubine Ling gained your love from you, but you yourself… have nothing.”

Outside the pavilion, the tree shadows flickered. Erqing, also holding a cloak, hid behind a tree, coldly watching the two people in the pavilion.

In Yanxi Palace, the garden was once again filled with gardenias in full bloom.

   Interestingly, these flowers seemed to symbolize the rise and fall of Yanxi Palace’s fortunes. When Wei Yingluo fell out of favor, even the potted plants would be moved out to Yong Alley to be used for smoking chamber pots. When Wei Yingluo regained favor, the entire courtyard would be overflowing with gardenias, blooming in luxurious splendor like a dream.

Gardenias bloomed in the courtyard, yet what was painted on the xuan paper was a spray of orchids.

“This stroke is not done like that.”

Hongli stood behind Wei Yingluo, holding her hand and guiding her stroke by stroke to paint.

Unfortunately, some wood cannot be carved. Even though he was already teaching her hand-over-hand, the orchid on the paper still looked crooked and twisted—at first glance, one might mistake it for a monster from the Classic of Mountains and Seas.

“Not like that. Sparse flowers and simple leaves—that’s the true charm of an orchid.” Hongli firmly grasped Wei Yingluo’s hand and forcibly pulled back the wayward stroke, preventing the orchid from growing two extra mustaches. “Steady! Sigh… you should learn from Noble Consort Chun. Noble Consort Chun paints the best orchids—light brushstrokes, yet full of noble character.”

Wei Yingluo scoffed with a sneer, snatched the brush, and with a few swift strokes added three more orchid blooms.

Hongli said in surprise: “Yingluo, what are you doing?”

Wei Yingluo: “I just don’t like those extremely simple orchid paintings. The more vulgar and gaudy, the better. Is that not allowed?”

Hongli laughed despite himself: “You’re being completely unreasonable.”

Wei Yingluo: “If the Emperor thinks Noble Consort Chun paints so well, then go accompany her in painting! Your humble consort is just a vulgar person to begin with, so naturally what I paint is very vulgar!”

So it wasn’t that she was unteachable rotten wood — she was simply jealous.

Indeed, with a whole courtyard full of gardenias, why on earth would she paint orchids? This was Yanxi Palace, not Zhongcui Palace which was filled with orchids everywhere.

Hongli found it a little amusing inside and spoke to coax her: “Alright, alright, I misspoke for a moment. Your painting has already improved tremendously.”

Wei Yingluo turned her face away and ignored him.

Hongli gave an appeasing smile: “Why are you so easily angered? It’s all my fault for comparing you to others.”

Seeing that she still wouldn’t pay attention to him, Hongli thought for a moment, suddenly picked up the brush, and with a few quick strokes added two more flowers to the orchid painting. Then he held it up for her to see: “Not angry anymore? Now I’m being vulgar together with you. Satisfied now?”

Only then did Wei Yingluo slowly turn her face back: “Emperor, you have always been very vulgar!”

Hongli laughed: “In what way am I vulgar?”

Wei Yingluo grinned and pointed toward the bookshelf.

Hongli: “What about it?”

Wei Yingluo walked over, took out a scroll, and couldn’t help laughing out loud: “This scroll of ‘Autumn Colors at Que and Hua’ — you actually managed to get it back?”

Hongli: “What are you laughing at?”

Wei Yingluo unrolled the painting and pointed at one seal after another: “One, two, three, four, five… more than forty seals in total, all your imperial ink treasures and stamps. Happy — stamp one. Unhappy — stamp one too. It’s just like the dog-skin plaster I used to see being sold under Tianqiao Bridge — impossible to peel off once stuck!”

No one is a sage; everyone has some small flaws and quirks. But Hongli was the Emperor — normally no one dared point them out. Now that Wei Yingluo had bluntly said it, he felt a little embarrassed. He slapped the table heavily: “Insolent!”

Yet Wei Yingluo acted as if she hadn’t noticed the darkening of his face. Smiling brightly, she tossed the scroll aside, stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist: “Your Majesty, the moment I said you were vulgar you got so angry! Put yourself in my shoes — when you say I’m vulgar, of course I’m unhappy too!”

This time it was Hongli’s turn to scoff and huff and turn his face away, refusing to look at her.

The tables had turned. Now it was Wei Yingluo’s turn to coax him: “Alright, alright, I’m not angry anymore, and Your Majesty shouldn’t be angry either, okay?”

But Hongli wasn’t as easy to placate as she was: “Punishment — copy my imperial poems one hundred times!”

Yingluo looked shocked: “Your Majesty, I really don’t like any of your poetry and prose. How about you punish me by copying Tang poems instead?”

Hongli: “Wei Yingluo!”

She burst out laughing, raised both hands, and gently pinched his earlobes on either side, half-coaxing, half-acting spoiled: “Fine, fine, I’ll copy imperial poems if that’s what you want. But there’s no good inkstone in my palace. This black-gold inkstone of yours is so precious and beautiful — won’t you give it to me?”

Hongli pulled her hands down: “No manners at all! The black-gold inkstone is unheard of in the world, extremely rare. I only have this one!”

Her unruly hands were pulled away, but quickly reached out again — first wrapping around his arm and shaking it, then hugging his neck and shaking it, until finally she had shaken his heart as well.

“Fine, take it, take it — it’s all yours!” he said grumpily. “Stop laughing. Come here and properly finish the orchid painting!”

With that, he pulled her into his arms and began teaching her how to paint once more.

“…And what is this now?”

“The Emperor couldn’t tell.”

“Say it.”

“It’s a mantis.”

“Wei Yingluo!”

At the door, De Sheng and Li Yu looked at each other in astonishment.

“Chief Steward Li.” De Sheng’s eyes were full of disbelief. “This servant has been in the palace for so long, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen a woman like Concubine Ling.”

Li Yu: “Don’t say you’ve never seen one—I’ve never seen one either! Three thousand beauties in the harem, all gentle, obedient, and compliant. And then there’s this one singular oddity, Concubine Ling.”

De Sheng stole a glance inside the room and lowered his voice: “Chief Steward Li, just now this servant saw Concubine Ling actually pinch the Emperor’s ear, and she even dared to pat the dragon’s head! Heavens! I was so frightened my heart nearly jumped out—I thought the next moment her head would roll!”

Li Yu sighed: “Everyone else treats the Emperor as the supreme Son of Heaven, but she’s the only one who treats him like an ordinary man! She laughs, she scolds, she does whatever she feels like. When she’s unhappy, she dares to throw a tantrum right in his face—and strangely enough, the Emperor actually likes it! What a bizarre thing!”

De Sheng shook his head: “This Concubine Ling is truly terrifying. She’s constantly stroking the dragon’s whiskers! Even if others knew the secret to her favor, who would dare imitate her? One misstep and—off with their head!”

Li Yu let out a short laugh, then quickly composed his face: “Hurry up and go change the tea—”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 137: Embroidery

   Night, in the sleeping chamber of Yangxin Hall.

The one keeping watch was Li Yu. He held his whisk, standing ramrod straight by the edge of the bed. It was already the third watch of the night, yet from behind the bed curtains still came the sound of restless tossing and turning.

Finally, Hongli threw back the covers. “I can’t sleep. I’m going out for a walk!”

That walk took him straight into Yanxi Palace.

His dragon boots crunched on the snow—creak, creak. Hongli walked with uneven steps, one foot sinking deep, the other shallow. At one point he accidentally stepped into a snow-filled hollow.

“Your Majesty, careful!” Li Yu hurriedly reached out to steady him.

“What’s going on!” Hongli pulled his foot out, somewhat annoyed. “Has the snow in Yanxi Palace not been cleared even once since winter began?”

Though the noise he made wasn’t huge, it wasn’t small either. Normally, the night-duty palace servants should have gotten up to check. Yet even after Hongli reached the outside of the sleeping chamber, not a single person emerged.

Hongli’s brows furrowed. Li Yu, reading his expression, said, “Aiya, Your Majesty, these servants really have no sense of propriety…”

Hongli suddenly raised a hand, signaling him to be quiet.

In the pitch-black Yanxi Palace, a single point of light shone.

Hongli walked toward that faint light. As he drew closer, he realized it was a single candle flame, flickering weakly in its holder, casting a tiny point of light and a trace of warmth onto the broken, gaping hole in the window.

He stood just outside the window. Through that hole, borrowing the meager glow, he looked in at her.

Everyone in Yanxi Palace seemed to have vanished, leaving only Wei Yingluo behind. She sat alone under the lamp. It was already deep into the third watch of the night, yet she was still bent over her embroidery.

The room must have been freezing, because every so often she would pause, rub her hands together, bring her faintly purplish fingers to her mouth, and breathe warm air onto them. Only after some feeling returned would she pick up the needle and thread again.

Not only was the room cold, it was also terribly dim. Perhaps to make the candle last longer, she had pinched the wick down to the smallest, thinnest possible flame. Sitting beside such a feeble light, Wei Yingluo had to stop and rub her eyes every few stitches.

Even Li Yu, seeing her in such reduced circumstances, felt a pang of pity—let alone him. He stole a careful glance at Hongli and, sure enough, saw heartache written plainly across his face.

It would be a lie to say Hongli felt no resentment at all.

But no matter how much resentment he harbored, he had only avoided seeing her—he had never deliberately made things difficult for her… at least, he had never once thought of tormenting her through the basic necessities of food, clothing, shelter, or warmth!

Couldn’t you eat something? Couldn’t you wear thicker clothes? If nothing else, couldn’t you let the candle burn a little brighter? Don’t make me feel this guilty, please?

—These words surged and churned in Hongli’s chest, yet he could not bring himself to speak a single one aloud.

Whoosh—

Inside the room, the candle flame suddenly leaped.

Wei Yingluo quickly set down her needlework and reached out to shield the flame, protecting it from the cold draft pouring in through the broken window.

The flame danced violently for a moment before finally steadying. Wei Yingluo let out a soft sigh. Her gaze drifted unconsciously toward the window. Hongli hurriedly ducked aside, yanking Li Yu along with him. The two of them pressed themselves flat against the wall like geckos for a long while until Li Yu, chilled to the bone, lowered his head and sneezed.

Hongli shot him a fierce glare.

Li Yu immediately clapped both hands over his mouth and looked back at him with innocent, wide eyes.

After waiting a while, Hongli cautiously peeked inside again. Seeing that Wei Yingluo had returned to her embroidery with head bowed, he let out a quiet breath of relief.

“Your Majesty,” Li Yu whispered, “aren’t you going in?”

Hongli shook his head and turned to leave.

Though his body walked away, his heart remained behind.

That night he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her breathing warmth onto her palms, saw the sharp, thin point of her chin, saw the Guanyin embroidery in her hands.

—Yet unexpectedly, the very next day, he saw that same Guanyin embroidery again.

In the Empress Dowager’s palace.

   The room was heated with smokeless charcoal; even in winter, it felt as warm as spring. The Empress Dowager held the embroidered image in her hands, her eyes filled with undisguised delight:

“This Guanyin Bodhisattva is dignified yet approachable, full of compassion for all beings. The skin is round and pure, and the folds of the robes and sashes are so truly lifelike. This time the embroidery workshop has truly put in great effort!”

Noble Consort Chun smiled faintly. “Empress Dowager overpraises. Since this Guanyin image is a gift offered to you, how could they dare not give it their all?”

The Empress Dowager nodded with a smile and turned to have it hung up. “Emperor, come and take a look as well.”

When he drew closer, Hongli became even more certain: the embroidery before him was exactly the one Wei Yingluo had been working on. He cast a glance at Noble Consort Chun and saw that she was chatting and laughing with the Empress Dowager, not mentioning Wei Yingluo even once. On impulse—almost as if guided by some unseen force—he suddenly reached out and touched the painting:

“The hair on this Guanyin looks so lifelike—it doesn’t seem like embroidery thread. Could it be… real human hair?”

The Empress Dowager turned to Noble Consort Chun. “The embroiderer used real hair to create the image?”

Noble Consort Chun glanced at the Buddha statue. “Han people and Manchus are different. For Manchus, cutting the hair is a grave disrespect, but for Han people, using strand after strand of black hair in embroidery shows an even deeper devotion to the Bodhisattva! This is an old custom, called ‘hair embroidery.’”

Hongli’s finger traced the single red dot between Guanyin’s brows. “This dot is clearly blood.”

Noble Consort Chun lowered her eyes slightly. “Your Majesty, this might merely be a coincidence. The embroiderer’s blood fell onto the frame, and to hide it, she turned it into a red mark on the forehead.”

The Empress Dowager sighed in admiration. “This embroiderer is truly ingenious. I really would like to meet her.”

How could Noble Consort Chun allow Wei Yingluo to share even a sliver of favor? She immediately smiled and said, “Empress Dowager, the embroidered image was not the work of one person alone. It was a joint effort by the most outstanding embroiderers in the entire workshop. If you wish to see them, I will personally summon them.”

The Empress Dowager held the embroidery and nodded. “A skilled embroiderer with good needlework is common enough in the palace, but one who puts such heart into it is extremely rare. She should be properly rewarded.”

Hongli looked at Noble Consort Chun’s innocent, guileless face, his expression complicated.

Back in the Yangxin Hall, he still could not calm his mind. One moment the image of the single drop of blood between the Bodhisattva’s brows flashed in his head; the next, he saw Wei Yingluo coughing as she stitched. After pacing restlessly for a long while, he suddenly vented his frustration by kicking over the brazier. “Send this to Yanxi Palace!”

Li Yu glanced at him. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Wait!” The Emperor called him back. “Remember—this is not from me!”

Li Yu: “It is the Imperial Household Department wishing to make amends for their negligence, and so they specially sent a new charcoal brazier. This servant understands. Your Majesty may rest assured!”

Hongli scoffed with a sneer.

As Li Yu picked up the brazier to leave, Hongli tapped the table. “Send a glazed palace lantern as well. I don’t like blind people!”

“Yes.” After acknowledging, Li Yu suddenly asked, “Your Majesty, since you cannot bear to part with Concubine Ling, why not go and see her?”

Hongli snapped, “Silence!”

Li Yu immediately slapped his own face. “This servant spoke out of turn!”

But Hongli was not angry at him. He rose abruptly, hands clasped behind his back, pacing back and forth in the room. Grinding his teeth, he said, “I’m not concerned about her. I simply will not allow anyone in the harem to be mistreated. Those dog-slaves in the Imperial Household Department—even if Concubine Ling is out of favor, they have no right to trample on her!”

Li Yu: “Your Majesty may rest assured—this servant will punish them severely!”

When one is poor, even in a bustling city no one asks after you; when one is rich, distant relatives appear from everywhere. The moment it became clear that Hongli had softened, Yanxi Palace—previously deserted—suddenly came alive again. Eunuchs bustled about carrying braziers, hanging palace lanterns; even the bed curtains and window paper were replaced with new ones.

Though there was much work to do, there were now even more hands to do it.

The palace servants who had previously scattered to seek other opportunities now returned to Yanxi Palace. To make up for past wrongs and prove their loyalty to their master, they scrambled to work—none complained of hardship, none claimed fatigue.

Hardship or exhaustion was not what they feared. What they feared was Wei Yingluo settling accounts after autumn.

“Oh my, isn’t this Chief Steward Wu? What a rare visitor.” Ming Yu came over with hands on hips. “How is it that Your Honor has time today to condescend to visit our humble Yanxi Palace?”

Wu Shulai smiled obsequiously. “Ming Yu, with winter here, Yanxi Palace still hasn’t been properly prepared—Concubine Ling has suffered! This servant only just learned of it and immediately brought people over. We only beg Her Ladyship’s forgiveness! When this servant returns, he will certainly flay them alive!”

In the palace, those who fawned on the high and trampled the low were many—and this Wu Shulai was one of them.

Logically speaking, given the connection from the embroidery workshop days, even if he wouldn’t help Wei Yingluo, he shouldn’t have kicked her when she was down. But in reality? He controlled the Imperial Household Department, and Yanxi Palace lacked this and that—sometimes they couldn’t even get a bowl of hot food.

Ming Yu remembered all of it. Now that the tide had turned, she had no intention of being polite. She sneered coldly. “Winter has been here for over a month. Which palace doesn’t have braziers and lanterns? Do you yourself believe the words coming out of your mouth, Chief Steward Wu?”

Wu Shulai was a ruthless man. Without caring that his subordinates were still standing nearby, he slapped himself hard twice. “It was all this servant’s fault—entirely this servant’s negligence! Concubine Ling is magnanimous—please, please forgive this servant!”

Of course he was unwilling to lose face in front of his subordinates, but face mattered—yet preserving his position mattered even more.

Word had already spread through the palace that the Emperor was furious and intended to investigate the matter of the Imperial Household Department’s harsh treatment of Concubine Ling. If he didn’t beg for mercy now, in a few days he might not even have the chance to do so.

…He truly regretted it! How could he have been so blinded by greed as to help that person torment Concubine Ling?

   They had known each other for years!

   Back when she was still in the embroidery workshop, he had already taken a liking to Concubine Ling and had helped her time and again. One could say that part of her current status was thanks to his assistance.

   If only he had kept cultivating that connection, today he wouldn’t be worrying about an investigation—he’d be thinking about how to climb even higher.

   He was a fool. Truly a fool!

   Wu Shulai was filled with regret. Now all he could do was look pleadingly at Wei Yingluo, hoping that for the sake of their past friendship she would forgive him this once and put in a good word for him in front of the Emperor.

But though he stared at her longingly for a long time, Wei Yingluo merely kept her head down, focused on her embroidery, without so much as glancing at him.

Wu Shulai grew even more uneasy, and his manner became increasingly fawning and obsequious: “Whatever instructions Concubine Ling may have in the future, as long as you say the word, this servant will definitely carry them out—definitely! If anything like this ever happens again, this servant will cut off his own head and offer it to Your Ladyship as a seat!”

“Enough!” Ming Yu glanced at Wei Yingluo, then said to him, “Chief Steward Wu, Concubine Ling dislikes noise. You should take your people and leave quickly!”

“Right away! This servant will leave immediately!” Wu Shulai kept looking back with every step, but Wei Yingluo never once lifted her head to look at him.

People say new clothes are never as good as old ones, and new friends are never as good as old ones—but people like him weren’t even as good as an article of clothing.

At least clothing could provide a bit of warmth in freezing weather. Yes, he had helped Wei Yingluo back in the embroidery workshop, but she hadn’t taken his help for nothing. The reason he could sit securely as Chief Steward of the Imperial Household Department today—pressing everyone else down so they couldn’t even lift their heads—was in no small part thanks to Wei Yingluo’s contributions.

Yet when she needed help, he had been stingy even with a single basin of charcoal.

“Your Ladyship,” Ming Yu said, “he’s gone.”

Only then did Wei Yingluo raise her head and glance toward the door.

“Don’t blame me for being heartless,” she thought to herself. “If I let him off lightly this time with just a casual pardon, everyone will think I’m weak and easy to bully. They’ll climb up to me today, then kick me down when I’m at my lowest… because in the future, as long as they casually apologize, I’ll supposedly accept it without question.”

Another group of footsteps entered Yanxi Palace.

One person carried a charcoal brazier; another held a glazed lantern.

Yanxi Palace was no longer what it had been just a few days ago. The palace no longer lacked these things. If Wei Yingluo wished, she could even replace the candlelight with the night-luminous pearls bestowed by Hongli—a full box of them sat on the table, their brilliant glow enough to illuminate the entire chamber.

“Your Ladyship.” Ming Yu looked toward Wei Yingluo, her eyes asking what should be done with these items.

Wei Yingluo pondered for a moment, then let out a soft, amused laugh: “He’s reminding me… that it’s time to go express my gratitude.”

That night, in Yangxin Hall.

   Hongli was reviewing memorials, but his mind was clearly not on them. The moment he heard footsteps outside, he immediately set down his brush. When he saw who had entered, the smile on his face slowly faded. He asked: “Concubine Ling isn’t coming to express thanks?”

Li Yu was taken aback, then smiled ingratiatingly: “Your Majesty, Concubine Ling is not in the palace at the moment.”

A brush was flung at his face. Hongli said coldly: “Get out!”

“Yes, yes.” Li Yu hurriedly bowed and retreated. Before leaving, he gave a subtle look to a young eunuch beside him. The young eunuch lowered his head, carried forward a bowl of lotus seed soup, and approached.

This little eunuch was dressed in an arrow-sleeved horse jacket and court boots, his figure petite and delicate. Hongli glanced over and found him extremely unfamiliar, assuming he was a new apprentice brought in by Li Yu, so he said coldly, “Put the things down and get out.”

“Understood.” The little eunuch replied in a pinched, high-pitched voice. He placed the lotus seed soup on the desk, but his hand impudently reached out to stroke Hongli’s fingers. Hongli was startled and about to flare up in anger when he suddenly froze. With one swift motion, he yanked off the eunuch’s hat. “Wei Yingluo!”

A glossy black braid tumbled down over her right shoulder. Wei Yingluo tilted her head toward him and smiled—a smile so charming and playful it was impossible to describe.

Hongli exploded in fury. “Who allowed you in here? Li Yu! Li Yu!”

She gently placed a finger over his lips and said softly, “Your Majesty, I missed you.”

Like a tiger with a chain around its neck, like a kite held by strings, the raging Hongli suddenly fell silent, his eyes fixed on her.

“And you?” Wei Yingluo lightly caressed his lips—gentle and ticklish. “Does Your Majesty not miss your consort even a little?”

Hongli seized her wandering fingers and grumbled, “That dog of a Li Yu actually dared to let you in without permission. And look at what you’re wearing—more and more outrageous!”

Though his words were full of complaint, his hands were honest enough. In one motion he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap.

Wei Yingluo’s body was soft and delicate. Sitting on his lap, she behaved like a child—restless hands and feet included. One small foot lightly stepped on the back of Hongli’s foot as she let out a soft, aggrieved hum. “If Your Majesty hadn’t gotten jealous for no reason, your consort wouldn’t have had to dress like this just to sneak out of the palace and see you.”

“And you still dare blame me? It was you and Fuheng—” Hongli’s face grimed once more at the mention, and unconsciously, the hand resting on her waist loosened.

But Yingluo caught his hand and guided it firmly back to her waist. “Your Majesty is truly petty. You’ve stayed angry for so long and still can’t let it go. Yes, the late Empress did intend to betroth me to Lord Fucha.”

Hongli: “You—!”

Yingluo did not shy away in the slightest. “But didn’t Your Majesty personally reject it?”

Hongli: “That was only because I was afraid you would ruin Fuheng! There was not the slightest personal motive!”

“Yet I wishes that you did have personal motives—because I also has personal motives toward you.” Wei Yingluo looked at him earnestly. “Perhaps in Your Majesty’s heart, I am insignificant, but I am already your wife. From now on, there is only one master for me, and there will only ever be one husband—you!”

Without the brazier, the room was somewhat cold, but Hongli’s heart warmed because of those words. After a long silence, he gently took her hand and pressed it to his chest. “We will never mention this matter again. You won’t bring it up, I won’t bring it up, and no one in the palace is permitted to mention it either. Whoever dares spread such rumors to harm you in the future… I will execute them without mercy!”

“Your Majesty…” Tears shimmered faintly in Wei Yingluo’s eyes. She called out softly, then buried herself against his chest, her shoulders trembling slightly.

Hongli sighed and wrapped her tenderly in his arms, holding her close to his heart. He felt that this woman was like a thorn lodged in his heart: pulling it out would hurt, leaving it in would also hurt. Over time, it had grown into his flesh and become part of his very blood and bone—something he could no longer separate himself from.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 136: May It Be as It Was at the Beginning

   One month later, at the martial training ground.

   Because he needed to secretly look after Wei Yingluo, Fuheng would occasionally make trips into the palace.

Of course, he could not go to the inner palace. Every time he came, it was to the training ground, under the same pretext—to spar with his good friend Hailancha.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

Sword met sword in sharp clashes. Both Fuheng and Hailancha were dressed lightly, yet fine beads of sweat flew from them. Their powerful stances and soaring battle spirit made them resemble two untamed wild lions.

Hailancha’s martial skill was formidable, but in the end, Fuheng held the clear advantage.

With a resounding clang, the long sword in Hailancha’s hand was suddenly struck flying.

“Your Majesty, be careful!”

Both Hailancha and Fuheng were startled. They turned and saw—oh no! —the sword was flying straight toward Hongli.

Before the guards could even react to save him, Hongli had already deftly raised his hand and caught the hilt.

The force of the sword carried his steps backward several paces. Once he steadied himself, Hongli casually flourished the blade in a sword flower, his eyes coldly fixed on the two men in the arena.

Fuheng and Hailancha immediately knelt together: “This servant has startled His Majesty’s presence—deserves ten thousand deaths!”

Hongli lifted the sword and walked forward step by step until he stood before Fuheng. Coldly he said, “Fuheng, it has been many years since I last witnessed your swordsmanship. Why don’t you let me test it for myself—see exactly how much you’ve improved!”

With those words, a streak of cold light slashed downward.

Fuheng dared not block it, nor did he dare dodge. Thus his arm took the blow squarely.

Hongli withdrew the sword and said coldly, “If you retreat without fighting, it will be considered deceiving the sovereign!”

Helpless, Fuheng had no choice but to raise his sword to meet him.

The two blades clashed. One side reflected Hongli’s face as he spoke casually: “In the past, when Neqin was still here, he always came alone to audience and discuss affairs. But after you entered the Grand Council, every time it requires all the Grand Council ministers to appear together before the throne. Fuheng—are you perhaps being a little too cautious?”

On the other side, reflecting Fuheng’s face, he said, “Your Majesty, this servant once made a grave mistake, leading to one wrong step after another—I truly regret it beyond measure. If private matters are like this, how much more so public affairs. Now I am cautious and careful, precisely because I take responsibility for the affairs of state.”

Hongli: “What you mean is—never mind!”

He had come full of anger, but at this moment his rage suddenly dissipated. His movements lost their vigor, and he abruptly tossed the sword aside. “I’m tired. Li Yu, return to the palace.”

He had just taken one step toward the door when he heard Fuheng behind him say, “Your Majesty, why do you not ask where the mistake lay? If back then you had granted this servant’s request for marriage, the Concubine Ling of today would be Lord Fucha Fuheng’s wife!”

Hongli suddenly bent down, snatched up the long sword from the ground, turned, and pointed it at him. “Lord Fucha Fuheng, you are outrageously presumptuous!”

Fuheng showed no fear whatsoever. “This servant once admired Wei Yingluo. Perhaps to Your Majesty this constitutes a kind of blasphemy—but she never agreed to marry this servant. Everything was merely this servant’s one-sided wish!”

Hongli: “Enough! I don’t want to hear it!”

Fuheng: “The past cannot be recalled. Your Majesty has always been magnanimous. Before the Borjigin woman entered the palace, she had been widowed, yet the moment she entered she was granted the rank of Noble Lady. Your Majesty did not even mind that she had been married before. Why, then, when it comes to Wei Yingluo, do you harbor such resentment?”

Hongli said darkly, “Lord Fuheng, do you truly believe I won’t kill you?”

Fuheng: “Because this woman is Wei Yingluo, you refuse to recall her past—because you did not participate in it, did not understand it! The angrier Your Majesty becomes now, the more you coldly neglect Concubine Ling, the more it proves that you are jealous and at a loss!”

Hongli: “Lord Fucha Fuheng, back then I stopped you only because…”

Fuheng: “Because Your Majesty believed Wei Yingluo was vain and greedy for power, clinging to the influential? Yet deep in your heart you know very well—if she were truly that kind of person, she would have long since used Your Majesty to climb higher! Yet you still insist on saying so. Why?”

Hongli gave a mocking laugh. “You suspect that I deliberately broke you two apart? Lord Fuheng, you really have gone mad—to utter such absurd words!”

Fuheng: “This servant dares not presume to guess the sacred will. Only Your Majesty knows best what is truly in your heart.”

Hongli was momentarily stunned.

The Empress’s words suddenly rang in his ears: Your Majesty, you were so determined to break off this marriage—do you truly have no selfish motives? Perhaps Your Majesty took a liking to Wei Yingluo and wanted her for yourself!

   Before him stood a face strikingly similar to the Empress’s, looking at him calmly. “Your Majesty, since you have obtained her, you should cherish her properly. Otherwise, this servant will only regret even more why I did not persist to the very end back then!”

The story branches here, each thread told separately.

While these two men stood in tense confrontation, inside a palace corridor, Ming Yu and Wei Yingluo walked one behind the other. Ming Yu carried a large armful of silk brocade, grumbling as she went: “Finishing the Guanyin embroidery wasn’t enough—now they’re making you embroider Buddhist sutras too. It’s clearly deliberate harassment! Your hand was injured in the Cleansing Division, and now you’re embroidering day and night. The cuts on your hand have all split open again. If you damage the brocade even slightly, everything has to be started over!”

“Enough!” Wei Yingluo said helplessly.

“I’m going to say it anyway!” Ming Yu was so angry her face was almost distorted. “Having someone embroider is one thing, but making us supply the materials too—this time if Momo Zhang hadn’t helped, we wouldn’t even have had any satin. What Buddhist embroidery are we supposed to do…”

She broke off mid-sentence.

An uninvited guest had appeared at the far end of the long corridor. Upon seeing them, he did not avoid them at all—he walked straight toward them.

It was none other than Wei Yingluo’s mortal enemy—the very Prince He who had caused the death of her sister—Hongzhou.

Truly, when the roof leaks, it pours all night. At this moment Yanxi Palace was already in the most precarious, windswept state—hardly a match for this prince standing before them.

Wei Yingluo hated him to the bone, yet she also understood her current position. She would not choose this moment to clash head-on with him. Instead, she chose to ignore him entirely and led Ming Yu to pass right by his side.

But Hongzhou was not willing to let her go so easily. With a sudden flick of his hand, he knocked the pile of silk brocade from Ming Yu’s arms and sent it tumbling to the ground.

The ground was still wet from the recent snowfall. Ming Yu, fearing that the silk would get soaked and ruined by the snowmelt, hurriedly bent down to pick it up. But just as her fingers touched the fabric, a pair of official boots stretched out from the side and mercilessly crushed down on her fingers.

“Ah!” Ming Yu cried out in pain, caught completely off guard.

Wei Yingluo’s expression changed. She forcefully shoved Hongzhou’s foot away and shielded Ming Yu in front of her: “Prince He, treating a woman this way—isn’t that far too despicable?”

She had assumed that since they were still within the palace, her status as a concubine would serve as protection. No matter how arrogant and domineering Prince He might be, he wouldn’t dare do anything to her. But to her surprise, he scoffed with icy disdain. Suddenly, one hand shot out, seizing her throat in a vicious grip and slamming her back against a pillar.

The eunuch who had been escorting him out of the palace trembled in fear: “P-Prince He, this… this cannot be done…”

“What do you mean it cannot be done?” Hongzhou lifted his hand, and Wei Yingluo’s feet rose off the ground along with it, leaving her dangling in midair against the pillar. She gasped desperately for breath like someone on the verge of death. He sneered coldly: “This Concubine Ling has completely lost favor. Now she’s nothing but a stray dog anyone can trample!”

Still, he didn’t dare kill her openly. His fingers loosened, and Wei Yingluo collapsed to the ground, clutching her throat and coughing violently. It took her a long while to catch her breath. But instead of being frightened by what had just happened, she slowly raised her head and stared straight at him: “Even a stray dog can bite.”

Hongzhou burst into loud laughter and reached for her again: “Go on then—bite me and let me see!”

Just as that hand was about to clamp around Wei Yingluo’s throat once more, another hand suddenly shot out from the side—like iron tongs—locking tightly around his wrist. A faint sound of cracking bone could be heard.

Hongzhou cried out in pain: “Fuheng! Have you gone mad? Let go!”

The person who had rushed over in a hurry to stop all of this was none other than Fuheng.

He appeared to have run the whole way; his breathing was slightly ragged, and the sweat on his forehead—whether from the run or from the shock of the scene—was unclear. Hearing Hongzhou’s words, he only tightened his grip further and said coldly: “Out of consideration for the fact that we grew up together, I’ve already been very polite to you! Hongzhou, you’ve done so many things and only with great difficulty managed to change His Majesty’s opinion of you. Are you planning to throw it all away and go back to how things were before?”

A flicker of struggle crossed Hongzhou’s face: “…I understand. Let go.”

Seeing that he finally knew to restrain himself, Fuheng slowly released his grip—but his eyes remained full of wariness, fixed on him.

Even if Hongzhou wanted to make trouble for Wei Yingluo, he wouldn’t choose this time or this place—because… he simply couldn’t beat Fuheng. All he could do was toss out one final sentence: “Fine. I’d like to see just how long you can keep protecting her!”

With that, Hongzhou shot Wei Yingluo one last vicious glare, clutched his wrist, and stormed off in fury.

Only then did Fuheng let out a breath of relief. He turned back to help Wei Yingluo: “Are you all right?”

But Wei Yingluo avoided his hand and turned her face toward Ming Yu: “Ming Yu, let’s go back.”

Ming Yu hurried over to support her. The two of them gathered up the silk from the ground, held it in their arms, and were about to leave when Fuheng suddenly spoke from behind: “Wait!”

Immediately after, his footsteps caught up. A very low, deep voice fell beside Wei Yingluo’s ear: “Hongzhou harbors deep hatred toward you. Be extremely careful. Also… I saw His Majesty today. I hope… everything goes as you wish.”

Wei Yingluo’s heart stirred, but she didn’t turn back. She simply continued walking forward, leaving his voice and his figure behind her.

Fuheng remained rooted in place, motionless, watching her departing silhouette. After a long while, he lowered his head and looked at his own sleeve. A trail of fresh blood snaked down from inside it.

—It was the sword wound left by Hongli during practice on the training ground.

Drop by drop it fell onto the snow, blooming like plum blossoms.

Inside Yanxi Palace, a similar plum tree was also in bloom—twisted diseased branches dotted with red plum blossoms.

Wei Yingluo returned to the palace with a heavy heart. There was too much work on her hands, so she continued embroidering while lost in thought. Although the window was closed, the wind and snow had blown a small hole in it. She hadn’t had time to patch it yet, so voices from outside drifted in.

“Xiaoquanzi, what is this bottle of medicine?”

“Sister Ming Yu, this was delivered by Lord Soulun at noon. He said it’s the best hand cream—made with cardamom and white sandalwood—so it can restore your hands to smooth and flawless condition.”

“That’s perfect! I was just in need of a bottle like this!”

The door creaked open. Ming Yu came in holding a porcelain-white medicine bottle, closed the door behind her with a backward motion, and walked over to Wei Yingluo’s side.

“Keep the person, take away the medicine.” Wei Yingluo said without lifting her head.

Ming Yu was stunned for a moment, then gave a wry smile. “True enough. Even someone as slow as me figured it out—how could you not see it?”

It wasn’t that she had discovered it entirely on her own. Rather, Soulun—that big, blunt oaf—was simply terrible at lying, and even worse at deceiving the girl he liked. After holding it in for several days, he finally couldn’t bear it anymore and confessed the truth to Ming Yu.

At first she blamed him, but later she felt that his straightforward honesty was actually quite nice, so she stopped holding it against him. All along, though, she had been quietly wondering whether she should tell Wei Yingluo the real story.

Now, as it turned out, she had guessed it herself.

“It’s easy to add flowers to brocade, but hard to send charcoal in a snowstorm,” Ming Yu said meaningfully. “I really wish I had someone who understands when I’m cold or warm, who’s gentle and considerate, always thinking of me!”

Wei Yingluo smiled slightly. “Isn’t your Guard Soulun exactly that kind of person?”

“That big blockhead!” Ming Yu glared. “That big blockhead only thinks about going to the battlefield to earn merit all day long. How would he ever understand a girl’s tender feelings? Flirting with him is less effective than flirting with a blind bear!”

Whenever she mentioned Soulun, she took on this lively, animated expression. Wei Yingluo let out a soft laugh and pushed the medicine bottle back toward her. “Put it away for now.”

Ming Yu was startled. “You don’t need it now?”

“Right, no need,” Wei Yingluo said, her gaze shifting to the brazier at her feet. “And this one too—put it away.”

Ming Yu looked shocked. “W-why? The weather is already so cold…”

These days the cold grew harsher by the day. A month ago she could still wrap herself in a quilt to get through the night, but now even bundling up in a quilt wasn’t enough—her teeth would chatter from the chill. Without the brazier, how could anyone survive the night? She feared that before dawn, her entire body would turn ice-cold.

Why?

In Wei Yingluo’s mind there suddenly flashed the words Fuheng had left behind earlier: “I saw His Majesty today. I hope that… everything goes as you wish.”

“Do as I say.” While speaking, Wei Yingluo walked over to the table, lit a cluster of candle flames, then slowly pinched the wick thinner and thinner.

—just as she had done a month ago, when Yanxi Palace had become so destitute that not even a single candle could be used.

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 135: No Expectation of Return

   Concubine Xiaojia’s words turned out to be prophetic. From that day onward, Hongli never set foot in Yanxi Palace again. He even forbade anyone from mentioning Wei Yingluo’s name in his presence.

   Ming Yu was anxious at heart. She specially brought generous gifts and went to find Li Yu several times. After much back-and-forth, Li Yu finally let slip a little: “His Majesty is still angry.”

“Chief Steward Li!” Ming Yu said urgently, “It was clearly Concubine Xiaojia who framed Concubine Ling—how can His Majesty still be angry?”

“The framing is real, but it’s also true that in the past, Lord Fucha once sought to marry Wei Yingluo!” Li Yu said with a smiling squint.

Ming Yu was speechless for a long moment. “But… but that was all in the past. Before His Majesty accepted Concubine Ling, didn’t he already know about it?”

“He knew, yes—but knowing is one thing, and personally seeing the two of them standing together is quite another.” As he spoke, Li Yu shook out the garment in his hand, saying meaningfully, “Ah, such fine fabric, such exquisite workmanship. But once His Majesty has worn it once, he doesn’t want to wear it again. It can only be put away.”

If even clothing is discarded after being worn once, how much more so a woman.

Ming Yu returned to Yanxi Palace with a heavy heart. All along the way, everything looked bleak and desolate. No one in the courtyard, no one in the side rooms, no one in the tea room. Finally, entering the inner hall, she saw Wei Yingluo having to pour her own tea. Furious, she rushed over, poured the tea for her, and shouted, “Where is everyone? Where the hell have they all died off to?”

“Ming Yu.” At last one person appeared—it was the little thief, Xiaoquanzi. He came limping over. “Those people were all summoned away by the Imperial Household Department. Some said Zhongcui Palace needed people to repair the roof, some said Chengqian Palace needed the inner courtyard cleaned, and the Imperial Garden was short of sweepers too…”

The more Ming Yu heard, the angrier she became. “The Imperial Household Department has people working everywhere—why are they suddenly dispatching people from Yanxi Palace!”

“Ming Yu, don’t you understand yet?” Xiaoquanzi sighed. “With our master out of favor with His Majesty, Yanxi Palace has no prospects left. Everyone is just looking out for their own way out.”

Ming Yu was stunned. Beside her, Wei Yingluo suddenly asked him, “Then why haven’t you left?”

In times of hardship, true feelings are revealed. She and Ming Yu truly had loyalty between them—but what about this little thief?

Xiaoquanzi dropped to his knees with a thud before her. “This servant betrayed you, offended Noble Consort Chun, and sold out Concubine Xiaojia. A person like me has no way to survive anywhere else. So even if our master is sent to the cold palace, this servant is willing to accompany you to the end.”

Wei Yingluo suddenly laughed. “You little servant—you actually dare to speak so bluntly. You’ve got some nerve!”

Xiaoquanzi: “Our master praises me, but this servant dares not accept it.”

Ming Yu, however, couldn’t stand him. “Even if every servant in the palace died out, our master would never use a two-faced, backstabbing thing like you. Pack your things and get out right now!”

Xiaoquanzi remained obediently kneeling on the ground, head bowed, and said, “Master, this servant did do wrong. But the Forbidden City is the Forbidden City—flattering the high and trampling the low, betrayal and scheming are everyday matters. After this incident, this servant’s little braid is firmly in Master’s hand. I can never betray again. So if Master is willing to use this servant, you will have found a loyal, devoted dog. This servant is willing to guard the gate and protect the courtyard for you, and swear allegiance unto death!”

Wei Yingluo sighed. “It’s a pity that my door no longer needs a dog to watch it.”

Xiaoquanzi suddenly smiled, showing even more confidence than she did. “Master, His Majesty has only momentarily taken a wrong turn. Once he thinks it through in the future, Master will still have the chance to rise again. Please don’t lose heart!”

“Noble Consort Chun has arrived!”

Wei Yingluo quickly raised a hand to silence the two of them, then stood up to greet her. “This concubine pays respects to Noble Consort Chun.”

When one is in a good mood, one’s spirit shines. Today’s Noble Consort Chun looked radiant and glowing with health.

—Clearly, she was building her own happiness on top of Wei Yingluo’s suffering.

After casually sitting down on a chair and exchanging a few idle words with Wei Yingluo, Noble Consort Chun finally revealed her true intention. She glanced at Yuhu, who understood at once and came forward carrying a tray with needles, thread, and bolts of fine silk.

Wei Yingluo didn’t understand what this meant and looked up at Noble Consort Chun.

“Everyone says Concubine Ling was once an embroidery girl—her needlework is lifelike, truly a marvel that rivals heaven’s work,” Noble Consort Chun said with a smile. “A few days ago, I specially found one of your embroidered pieces and sent it to Shoukang Palace. The Empress Dowager was delighted and instructed that you embroider an image of the Great Bodhisattva Guanyin for her.”

No matter how low Wei Yingluo had fallen, she was still the head of a palace. Yet Noble Consort Chun was treating her like an embroidery maid, like a mere servant to be ordered about.

“Noble Consort Chun.” Ming Yu immediately spoke up in defense of Wei Yingluo. Unable to refuse outright, she sought another excuse: “My mistress injured her hand in the past and can only do rough, simple work. An exquisite embroidered portrait of Guanyin Bodhisattva like this…”

It wasn’t entirely an excuse.

Wei Yingluo’s life had been full of hardships, and nearly all of them were written on her hands: burn scars from molten iron, frostbite from long hours in the snow, old wounds left from days and nights of endlessly scrubbing chamber pots. Scars of every kind, too numerous to count—even the finest ointments couldn’t erase them. They had become like the growth rings of a tree, an inseparable part of her life and her hands.

Noble Consort Chun, however, paid no attention to such details. She said coolly: “I have already recommended you in front of the Empress Dowager. Am I supposed to go back now and tell her that you’re incapable?”

Ming Yu was about to protest again when Wei Yingluo silenced her with a single glance. Then, turning to Noble Consort Chun with a smile, she asked: “Noble Consort Chun, how long do I have to complete this embroidered portrait for the Empress Dowager?”

Noble Consort Chun smiled sweetly: “Not too long, not too short—one month.”

Ming Yu: “You—”

One month? In one month she might manage to embroider a decent handkerchief, and now she was expected to embroider a portrait of Guanyin? Noble Consort Chun was clearly making things deliberately difficult!

   Yet Wei Yingluo’s smile remained unchanged: “Noble Consort, please rest assured. This concubine will do her utmost.”

After seeing Noble Consort Chun off, Ming Yu slammed the door shut and said through gritted teeth: “She’s obviously here to kick you when you’re down! How could you agree so easily?”

“Noble Consort Chun has already made it clear that the embroidery is for the Empress Dowager. If I openly refuse, it would be blatant disrespect to Her Majesty. She’s just waiting for me to give her an excuse to accuse me.” Wei Yingluo picked up the needle and thread from the table, her expression grave. “Go and bring all the candles over.”

That night, a cluster of candle flames lit up inside Yanxi Palace.

Supplies in the palace were scarce—even the most ordinary candles had to be used sparingly. So Wei Yingluo deliberately turned the wicks down low, making the candles burn more slowly and last longer.

Embroidering by such dim candlelight inevitably led to… pricking her fingers.

“Tch!” Wei Yingluo frowned, put the injured finger into her mouth to suck on it briefly, waited until the bleeding stopped, and then continued stitching.

If she refused to sleep, Ming Yu naturally refused to sleep as well. She stayed by her side, rubbing her arms against the cold even as she shivered. She opened the charcoal basin, hoping to stir the fire higher, only to discover that the coals inside had long since gone out.

Ming Yu’s heart ached. After looking around for a moment, she fetched a thick quilt from the bed, draped it snugly over Wei Yingluo’s shoulders, and then pressed herself close like a human charcoal brazier, using her own body warmth to keep her warm.

“If you cling to me like this, I can’t even embroider anymore,” Wei Yingluo said with a laugh, though she didn’t push her away.

Ming Yu had intended to stay up with her until dawn, but gradually her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Without realizing it, she leaned against Wei Yingluo’s shoulder and fell asleep. In her dream the room felt warm as spring. She suddenly opened her eyes, only to find it wasn’t a dream—the room really was warm as spring.

“Shh.” Xiaoquanzi was squatting on the floor. He raised one finger to his lips. “Keep your voice down. The mistress has just fallen asleep.”

Wei Yingluo was utterly exhausted. Outside the window, a faint trace of dawn light was already visible. Only then had she closed her eyes, still clutching the embroidery as she lay down on the bed—as though the moment she opened her eyes she would resume her work.

Ming Yu tenderly tucked the quilt around her more securely. Her gaze shifted and landed on the charcoal basin at Xiaoquanzi’s feet. Bright flames danced inside, licking upward, yet there wasn’t the slightest acrid smoke. It was clearly high-quality smokeless charcoal. She felt both surprised and delighted, and whispered: “Xiaoquanzi, you’re wonderful!”

Xiaoquanzi simply smiled at her without saying much.

If it had only been one basin of charcoal, Ming Yu wouldn’t have grown suspicious. She would have assumed he had connections in the Imperial Household Department, and that someone there was willing to give Yanxi Palace a little face—not much, but at least enough charcoal to get through the winter.

But soon enough, Ming Yu began to sense something was off.

At mealtime, Xiaoquanzi delivered a hot pot. For Yanxi Palace in the depths of winter, managing even one hot meal with hot dishes was already difficult. Yet when the lid was lifted, there were both meat and vegetables inside—not only richly flavored Dongpo pork, but also cabbage, something rarely seen in winter. Not only Ming Yu, but even Wei Yingluo was somewhat astonished. She asked him: “Xiaoquanzi, where did you get such fine dishes from?”

Xiaoquanzi insisted stubbornly: “It was issued by the Imperial Household Department.”

Even late into the night, when Wei Yingluo was halfway through embroidering a portrait and couldn’t help covering her mouth to cough twice, he suddenly produced, as if by magic, a box of top-quality loquat paste from his robes and handed it to Wei Yingluo.

Wei Yingluo looked thoughtful, but Ming Yu did not have the same level of composure. The very next day she summoned Xiaoquanzi to a quiet spot and questioned him sharply: “Where did you get that loquat paste?”

Xiaoquanzi put on an innocent face: “Issued by the Imperial Household Department.”

The Imperial Household Department again? Ming Yu scoffed with icy disdain. “You’re lying! I went early this morning to request some and was given every excuse in the book—I couldn’t get any. How could you possibly have gotten some?”

Xiaoquanzi was struck dumb.

“And that basin of charcoal fire too,” Ming Yu pressed aggressively. “Afterward, when I went to dispose of the ashes, I discovered pine and cypress incense had been added to it. The mistress was so focused on her embroidery that she didn’t notice at the time. Xiaoquanzi… are you going to tell me that was also issued by the Imperial Household Department? If you don’t tell the truth right now, I’ll go straight to the mistress!”

Xiaoquanzi hurriedly grabbed her arm. “No, no, no—don’t go! It was given to me by Guard Soulun!”

Ming Yu’s heart had been full of suspicions; she had even wondered if it was the Emperor himself. But she never expected the name that finally came out of his mouth to be this one…

“How could it be him?” Ming Yu couldn’t help murmuring to herself.

Toward him, she actually carried a deep sense of guilt.

There had been a private affection between them: for Hailancha it was genuine love, but for her it had been ulterior.

Previously she had taken advantage of that feeling, coaxing information out of him about Noble Consort Chun’s plan to open a market in Jiangnan, then handed it over to Wei Yingluo, which set the entire subsequent chain of events in motion.

Everything had gone extremely smoothly, yet Wei Yingluo had half-advised, half-warned her: “Don’t do anything like that again in the future. You’ll only end up exhausting whatever affection remains between the two of you.”

“Sister Ming Yu?” Xiaoquanzi’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Ming Yu snapped back to the present, looked at him with a complicated expression, and said, “I understand now. Go inside and attend to the mistress for a while. Remember not to let her overwork herself. Even if she can’t rest on time, at least make sure she eats on time.”

“Understood.” Xiaoquanzi asked, “If the mistress later asks where you went, what should I tell her?”

“I…” Ming Yu hesitated for a moment, then replied, “Just say I went to the Imperial Household Department to request something.”

Naturally, the Imperial Household Department would issue her nothing at all.

Just like Xiaoquanzi, she ultimately made her way to the guards’ station.

She had come all this way, yet suddenly lost the courage to go inside. Ming Yu leaned against the main gate, exhaling white puffs of breath one after another; they melted together with the snowflakes drifting in front of her.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when a voice suddenly came from behind her: “…Ming Yu?”

She turned around and saw Hailancha striding toward her with long, powerful steps. He immediately took off his large cloak and wrapped it around her. “You’re here—why didn’t you come in?”

Hailancha was tall and broad-shouldered. When his cloak enveloped Ming Yu, the hem dragged all the way to the ground. The garment still carried the warmth of his body, like a spring breeze, thawing her frozen frame.

“…You know better than anyone what the situation is like in Yanxi Palace right now,” Ming Yu said in a low voice. “It’s best if no one sees us meeting.”

Hailancha was momentarily taken aback, then reached out and gently ruffled her hair. “Silly girl, do you think I’d worry about something like that? Come inside—you’ll freeze out here.”

He personally pushed the door open, but Ming Yu refused to step through. She only clutched the cloak tightly around herself and stood in place, saying, “I won’t go in. I came today… to thank you.”

“Thank me for what?” Hailancha looked puzzled.

“The new charcoal with pine and cypress incense, the warming brazier, and the loquat paste you gave to Xiaoquanzi…” Ming Yu gazed at him with soft, glistening eyes. “Thank you…”

Hailancha was silent for a long moment, then suddenly smiled. “Oh, so that’s what you’re talking about. I said I would help you, so of course I had to follow through!”

“I…” Tears welled up in Ming Yu’s eyes. Afraid he would see them, she quickly lowered her head. “I really don’t know how to thank you properly…”

He was so sincere toward her, every word he spoke carried weight and was kept. Yet she harbored schemes against him, hiding a lie in every two sentences…

Hailancha reached out, slowly tying the ties of the large cloak around her neck, and said gently, “It’s cold. Go back quickly.”

Ming Yu nodded. When she turned to leave, she couldn’t hold back any longer—tears streamed down her face.

The wind and snow howled, little by little erasing her retreating figure. Hailancha folded his arms, leaned against the pillar, and suddenly said, “Come out.”

From behind another pillar, Fuheng slowly stepped forward.

“The charcoal was sent by me, but I didn’t add any pine or cypress incense. As for the hot pot ingredients, the loquat paste, and Xiaoquanzi—I know absolutely nothing about any of it.” Hailancha turned his head to look at him. “What about you? Do you know anything?”

Fuheng remained silent.

“Speak.” Hailancha walked over. “You’ve done so much for her—why won’t you let her know?”

At last Fuheng spoke. He smiled slightly. “There’s no need.”

The good I do for her should not become a burden to her. My love for her is my own affair alone—I seek nothing in return.

   STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 134: Secret Rendezvous

   Hate?

   Wei Yingluo quickly turned her face away, as if avoiding him—or perhaps avoiding her own feelings: “I don’t!”

“I promised to marry you as my wife, yet in the end I married the Xitara woman.” Fuheng said bitterly, “Given your temperament, you would never forgive me in this lifetime.”

“…Fuheng, you really think too highly of yourself.” Wei Yingluo seemed finally to have steadied her emotions. She slowly turned back to face him, her expression calm and unruffled as she said faintly, “Only where there is love can there be hate. Since I no longer love you, naturally I no longer hate you either.”

Compared to this flat, indifferent response from her, Fuheng would almost have preferred her to curse him out.

“…You will never forgive me, will you?” His tone was half question, half resigned statement of his own fate. His smile was bitter. “This… is truly my own fault.”

He hated himself for being too young back then, for so easily believing Erqing’s words. He hated himself for hesitating, for not asking her directly when he could have, and instead waiting until he returned from the battlefield.

One wrong step led to every step being wrong, until finally the two of them parted ways and walked in opposite directions—two paths that, in this lifetime, would likely never cross again.

This heavy emotion pressed down on Wei Yingluo’s shoulders until she could hardly breathe.

To be loved so unconditionally and without regret by such an unparalleled man in the world would fill any other woman with pure joy. Yet Wei Yingluo only felt stifled and irritated.

Some words, once missed, should never be spoken again. Some people, once missed, should never be seen again—otherwise they only bring more trouble. Wei Yingluo took a deep breath: “Fucha Fuheng, you do not belong in the Forbidden City. This place is full of traps and schemes. You belong on the battlefield, where you can achieve great deeds and fulfill your lifelong ambitions. Go—leave right now!”

This harem was ultimately a battlefield for women. He was an outer minister; even if he uncovered the truth, he was unlikely to be a match for those women.

The Empress’s revenge would ultimately have to be carried out by her!

“But, Yingluo…” Fuheng looked at her. “I cannot rest easy leaving you here.”

“Enough!” Wei Yingluo cut him off sharply.

“If I stay, at least I can see you.” Fuheng said gently. “When you are in danger, I can do something for you.”

Some feelings, even when missed, remain unforgettable. Some things, once missed, bring endless regret. Fuheng had always regretted leaving so quietly back then. If he had cared for her a little more, perhaps she would not have entered the palace alone, carrying a secret purpose to become one of Hongli’s concubines…

   The two of them… would not have ended up with such a regretful outcome today.

“Fucha Fuheng!” Wei Yingluo could not help shouting his full name. “I’m telling you again—enough!”

She became even more resolute: she absolutely could not let him know the truth, and especially could not let him know her purpose in becoming a concubine. Otherwise, with him already so emotionally overwhelmed now, if he learned the truth later…

Fortunately, Fuheng had excellent self-control. Though his feelings ran as deep as the sea, he would never cross the line. He still maintained the proper distance of lord and subject, only his gaze remained as gentle as ever as he said to her: “No matter what you truly intend to do, I only want to tell you one thing: my sister truly hoped for your happiness.”

Wei Yingluo was stunned.

“To set you free and let you be happy—that was my sister’s only wish before she passed away.” Fuheng glanced once more at the portrait hanging on the wall. “You must always remember this. Don’t sacrifice yourself for anyone. For your own sake, you must live happily! If you ever encounter any difficulty, don’t always try to shoulder it alone. Tell me. No matter where I am, I will come to help you…”

Before he could finish speaking, there was a sudden loud bang—the door was violently shoved open.

Ming Yu stood at the doorway, her face deathly pale. She tried to step inside but was immediately blocked by two eunuchs.

The one who had given the order was Hongli. He stood at the threshold, staring darkly at the two people inside the room.

“Your Majesty, look at these two,” said Concubine Xiaojia, who had come along with him to pay respects. Her gaze swept over them with contempt. “Back when we were still in Changchun Palace, they were already glued together like that. Now that Concubine Ling has been promoted to an imperial woman, they still refuse to give up and are stirring things up again!”

“Concubine Xiaojia, please refrain from speaking nonsense,” Ming Yu said, wrenching herself free from the two eunuchs’ grasp. “Today is the anniversary of the late Empress’s death. Concubine Ling once served the late Empress—this is merely a chance encounter!”

“Where in the world are there so many ‘chance encounters’? It’s clearly premeditated,” Concubine Xiaojia sneered. Turning to Hongli, she added fuel to the fire: “Your Majesty, today is the late Empress’s memorial day, yet these two chose this very place for a secret rendezvous. Not only is it shameless—it is utter disrespect!”

“A secret rendezvous?” Wei Yingluo looked at her. “Did you personally witness us being intimate? We merely exchanged a few words, and that becomes a rendezvous? Are all the dozens of palace maids and eunuchs in Changchun Palace dead?”

Her reasoning was sound—even if they were having a secret meeting, no one would choose such a crowded, public place. But Concubine Xiaojia had no intention of reasoning with her. She merely gave a mocking laugh and said, “You two calculated that His Majesty is soft-hearted and would believe such nonsense, which is exactly why you picked this time and place! Your Majesty, these two have long had a private affair. Today they were caught red-handed, yet they still try to quibble. Please do not believe their lies!”

Hongli stared at Yingluo. “Concubine Ling, apart from ‘chance encounter,’ do you have any other explanation?”

“Your Majesty!” Fuheng had not expected such an accident. He hurriedly tried to explain for her: “Today is my sister’s death anniversary. I came especially to pay my respects. Because I was delayed by an unexpected matter, I happened to run into Concubine Ling. We only spoke a few words, and they were all related to the late Empress…”

“I did not ask you!” Hongli cut him off sharply. “I am asking her! Wei Yingluo—give me an explanation!”

Seeing him advance menacingly toward Wei Yingluo as though he might strike her, Fuheng panicked and—forgetting his own position—stepped in front of her to shield her. This only further enraged Hongli. Without thinking, he shoved Fuheng with one palm. Fuheng staggered back several steps. With a clink, a hairpin slipped from his waist and fell to the ground.

Before he could react, Concubine Xiaojia had already darted forward, picked up the hairpin, and cried out dramatically: “Oh my! Isn’t this Concubine Ling’s hairpin?”

It was a pure-gold hairpin, its head shaped like a gardenia flower with six petals layered upon one another. Hongli had noticed how much she loved gardenias and specially ordered the palace workshop to craft them—four in total, in red, blue, white, and purple, all sent exclusively to Yanxi Palace. There were no duplicates.

“And you still claim it was a misunderstanding,” Concubine Xiaojia said with barely concealed triumph. “Even the token of love has appeared. This is truly catching adulterers in the act—both the person and the evidence!”

Hongli gripped the hairpin tightly, slowly raising his eyes to stare coldly at Wei Yingluo. “Wei Yingluo—is this your answer to me?”

Ming Yu cried out in shock: “Your Majesty, this hairpin is something Her Ladyship lost! Someone deliberately planted it to frame her—this is a frame-up!”

By now Fuheng had also realized he had fallen into a carefully laid trap. With his martial skills, it should have been impossible for anyone to plant something on him without him noticing—unless…

“It was that little eunuch!” Fuheng suddenly came to his senses and said urgently to Hongli, “Just now a eunuch brought in sacrificial offerings and bumped into me, causing me to spill something on my clothes. I took off my outer robe to change—that was when someone must have taken the opportunity! Your Majesty, please summon the eunuch named Xiaoluzi. One interrogation will reveal the truth!”

But there was no need to summon him. A thin, small figure darted out from the crowd, threw himself to the ground with a thud, and began kowtowing frantically to Hongli. “Your Majesty, this humble servant is Xiaoluzi, but this servant has never seen any hairpin!”

“You—” Fuheng nearly drew his sword in fury, hating himself for being too soft-hearted. Not only had he harmed himself, but now he had harmed Wei Yingluo as well.

Hongli’s expression grew darker and darker; he looked on the verge of exploding in rage.

Suddenly, Wei Yingluo burst into loud laughter directed at Concubine Xiaojia. “Concubine Xiaojia, your acting is so clumsy I can’t even bear to watch anymore… Xiaoquanzi—kneel!”

Xiaoquanzi looked utterly bewildered, not understanding why she had suddenly called his name. Under so many watchful eyes, he could only shuffle forward and kneel.

“Speak,” Wei Yingluo said calmly. “Who instructed you to steal that item? If you won’t say… then I shall hand you over to Noble Consort Chun.”

Everyone found it strange. If a palace servant had committed an offense and needed to be punished, why not hand them over to the Bureau of Careful Punishment? Or at the very least, deliver them to the Empress? What on earth did handing them over to Noble Consort Chun mean?

Only Xiaoquanzi shuddered, staring at her in horror as the realization struck him: She knows everything.

Wei Yingluo looked at him coldly. Of course she knew. From the very beginning, she had suspected that Xiaoquanzi had most likely been bought off by someone. Otherwise, why would he steal a handkerchief of all things? A handkerchief couldn’t fetch much money at all, but it was perfectly suited for framing someone.

That was why she had never truly trusted him. The only reason she had kept him around was because he still had his uses.

—and that use was precisely for today! This very moment!

“Think carefully. Noble Consort Chun is not me.” Wei Yingluo stared at Xiaoquanzi, her words carrying heavy implication. “She will certainly… punish you very thoroughly.”

Once Noble Consort Chun learns that it was you who bought back the stolen goods and sold them at her Jiangnan market stall, she will make you wish for death but be unable to die!

   Xiaoquanzi understood the meaning behind her words. His face turned deathly pale in an instant. Only now did he realize why Wei Yingluo had never pursued the crime of his theft. Earlier he had secretly rejoiced, even thinking she was weak and easy to bully. Now he understood it had all been one long, interlocking trap.

Gritting his teeth, he decided that rather than offending both Noble Consort Chun and Wei Yingluo at the same time, he would rather offend Concubine Xiaojia. He immediately shouted loudly:

“It was Concubine Xiaojia! It was all instigated by Concubine Xiaojia! She ordered this slave to steal Her Ladyship Concubine Ling’s hairpin. Although this slave did steal the hairpin, I never intended to use it to slander Her Ladyship Concubine Ling! Your Majesty, have mercy! Concubine Ling, have mercy!”

Concubine Xiaojia turned pale with shock. She had never expected this worthless dog of a servant to turn on her so easily and completely. She hurriedly cried out:

“Nonsense! You’re slandering me with blood on your tongue! Your Majesty, this little eunuch belongs to Yanxi Palace—of course he would speak up for Concubine Ling!”

If she didn’t bring Concubine Xiaojia down now, she would surely face vicious revenge later. Xiaoquanzi simply went all in:

“The gold Concubine Xiaojia gave this slave is all hidden under my bed! The person who handled it was her senior palace maid, Lan’er. If Your Majesty does not believe me, just subject her to strict interrogation—she will confess everything!”

Lan’er was an old servant Concubine Xiaojia had brought from her own family—a girl from a small, humble household with naturally timid character. She didn’t even need to be tortured; the scene before her eyes alone was enough to terrify her. With a thud, she dropped to her knees.

—Which was as good as a confession.

   A thousand calculations, ten thousand schemes, and in the end she was defeated by such a coward. Concubine Xiaojia was furious beyond measure. She raised her hand and slapped Lan’er hard across the face—but in the very next moment, Hongli delivered a slap to her.

Hongli looked at her coldly:

“From this day forward, Concubine Xiaojia is confined to Chuxiu Palace. Without my command, she is not permitted to leave!”

“Your Majesty, no! This concubine knows she was wrong! This concubine knows her mistake—please do not confine me, I beg you!” Concubine Xiaojia crawled forward on her knees, clinging desperately to Hongli’s boots and weeping bitterly. But Hongli ignored her completely. With one kick he sent her sprawling and strode away.

Watching his departing figure, then looking down at the sobbing Concubine Xiaojia, and finally turning to Wei Yingluo—who stood there smiling calmly—Fuheng suddenly understood everything.

—The reason Wei Yingluo had deliberately kept him behind to talk today was most likely so she could leave an obvious flaw for Concubine Xiaojia to step right into this trap.

“Wei Yingluo!” At last Concubine Xiaojia realized the truth. Hair disheveled, she whipped her head around. “You set me up!”

Wei Yingluo laughed softly.

“Was it you who set me up, or was it I who set you you?”

If one harbors no intent to harm others, one will never step into such a trap.

In the end, before Concubine Xiaojia bent down to pick up that hairpin and began framing her, Wei Yingluo had no idea who had instigated Xiaoquanzi, nor did she know who would be the one stepping into the trap today.

One phrase summed it up perfectly: One reaps what one sows.

“Hah, do you think you’ve won?” Concubine Xiaojia snarled viciously at her. “Let me tell you something—His Majesty may despise me now, but he has not forgiven you either! Your secret rendezvous are a fact. He will never see you again! Concubine Ling, I may be finished, but you won’t come out of this unscathed either!”

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 133: Clinging to the Past

   In this vast Fucha residence, there was unexpectedly no place for him to rest.

Fuheng wandered outside for a while. He couldn’t return to the study, nor did he want to go back to the bridal chamber he once shared with Erqing. He briefly considered asking the steward to arrange a temporary sleeping place, but feared it would alarm his parents and disturb the peace of the household. After wandering silently for a long time, he finally drifted into the garden.

Above him hung a solitary moon. Fuheng sat down on a stone bench and stared blankly up at the night sky, lost in thought.

Until a cloak gently settled over his shoulders.

“Young Master,” Qinglian had appeared behind him at some point and spoke softly, “It’s late at night. Please take care of your health.”

Fuheng did not turn around. He continued gazing at the lonely moon overhead and asked, “Qinglian, do you think I was wrong?”

Qinglian was a gentle, water-like good girl. She would never take the initiative to pry, but if he was willing to speak, she was willing to stand quietly by his side and listen attentively.

“Three years have passed,” Fuheng sighed. “She has already become His Majesty’s woman, yet I still cannot let her go.”

This matter had originally been a secret. But after Erqing quarreled with him for so long, the secret gradually ceased to be a secret. One or two trusted people came to know the inside story. Qinglian wasn’t sure whether she counted as one of Fuheng’s confidants, but earlier she had nearly been disfigured by Erqing and was only saved thanks to Fuheng’s intervention. In that way she indirectly learned the truth of the matter.

She knew that the “she” in his words… referred to the currently most favored Concubine Ling.

“Young Master,” Qinglian thought for a moment, then said gently, “You are a person who lives in the past.”

Fuheng had only wanted to find someone who could keep a secret afterward to pour out his pain to—never expecting the other party to say such a sentence. He immediately turned to look at her, stunned. “Live in the past?”

Qinglian honestly spoke her thoughts: “This servant has never seen Her Ladyship Concubine Ling, but the fact that she rose so rapidly in just half a year shows she is someone who understands the times. People like that are usually very intelligent. They know the past cannot be retrieved and only ever look forward.”

Remembering how Wei Yingluo had ignored him, remembering the moments they passed each other by, Fuheng gave a bitter smile. “You’re right. Yingluo is someone who only ever looks forward.”

Seeing the bitter smile on his face, Qinglian’s heart ached. Although she had never met that Concubine Ling, at this moment she couldn’t help but feel a surge of resentment toward her. There were many men in the world, but men like the Young Master were rare—perhaps one could search the length and breadth of the land and still find only this one. Why should such a man, who loved with single-minded devotion, be made to show such a desolate smile?

“People who are this clever are often heartless, because all the beautiful things of the past will be discarded by them.” Because she had already formed a prejudice in her heart, her words were no longer polite. Qinglian paused slightly, then added, “Not just memories—people too.”

The bitterness in Fuheng’s smile deepened instantly. “So in that case, I am the one who was discarded by her?”

“No.” Qinglian shook her head. “It’s that Young Master, you are always clinging to the past, trapping yourself inside a dream called ‘the past.’ In that dream… there is your old inkstone, the military books you’ve worn out from reading, and the woman you have always loved. The old dream is too beautiful, so you keep refusing to wake up.”

Fuheng was stunned by her words.

Just as Qinglian said—he was an extremely nostalgic person.

In his small study, it was as though a separate world existed. The old clothes from former days, the worn military books, and even the inkstone missing a corner—all remained in his little realm, never once discarded.

In the end, even that person remained lodged in his heart, stubbornly refusing to be let go.

“If it were merely a matter of clinging to the past, it wouldn’t really be a problem. But young master, you hold yourself to far too high a standard—almost cruelly so.” Since the words had already been spoken, Qinglian simply poured out the rest of her innermost thoughts like beans from an overturned bamboo tube. “I’ve heard that on the march, even after long, exhausting journeys and days in the saddle, the young master would still stay up all night to discuss military affairs and draft memorials to the throne. Even His Majesty issued an edict that after the hour of Xu (7–9 p.m.), your memorials were to be forcibly collected so you would no longer torment your own body like that. Young Master… you are so exacting toward affairs and toward yourself—how much more so toward matters of the heart?”

Fuheng was silent for a long moment before sighing. “Qinglian, I am not as good as you make me out to be.”

He threw himself into military duties and risked his life without hesitation—half for the country, half for himself. Back then, a faint hope still lingered in his heart: that by achieving extraordinary military merit, he could one day redeem her from the Yuanmingyuan…

But by the time he returned to the Forbidden City covered in glory and honor, everything had already turned to nothing.

One was an imperial consort; the other, an imperial subject. So close, yet separated by the distance of heaven and earth.

And when he returned home, there was a wife of that sort, and a child of that background. What more could he possibly pursue in this life? He could only bury himself in endless military affairs, using inexhaustible work to numb himself, so that for brief moments he could forget everything—forget her…

But Qinglian did not see it that way. Hearing his words, she anxiously shook her head in denial. “No. No matter what others say, in my heart, you will always be the best young master in the world!”

In her eagerness to comfort him, she accidentally let her true feelings slip out.

Fuheng slowly turned his gaze away, avoiding the burning intensity in her eyes, and said with feigned calm, “Tomorrow is my sister’s death anniversary. Go and make the preparations for me.”

Qinglian still had so much more she wanted to say, but his words cut through her like scissors through threads of affection. She immediately fell silent. After a long while, she lowered her head and said softly, “Yes.”

She left reluctantly. Halfway down the path, she couldn’t help turning back once more. “Young Master, the wind is rising. Please go back inside and rest soon.”

Fuheng did not reply. He didn’t even bother to put the cloak back on; instead, he took it off his shoulders, folded it neatly, and placed it on the stone table beside him. Alone, he sat beneath the moon. The pure white moonlight poured over his shoulders and hair like falling snow.

Watching him, Qinglian felt a pang in her heart and couldn’t help but think: Even a man like this you could so heartlessly abandon… Concubine Ling, just what kind of person are you?

The next day, Changchun Palace.

   The long-abandoned and neglected Changchun Palace had suddenly come alive with activity once again.

Palace maids and eunuchs came and went, tidying the memorial hall until it was spotless. Before the portrait of the late Empress, Fuheng inserted three sticks of incense into the burner.

White smoke curled upward, drifting past the painting.

“Sister,” Fuheng gazed at the face in the portrait and thought to himself, “Did you already foresee that I would end up like this?”

The person was gone forever. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, yet in the end they could only remain buried in his heart, never to be spoken.

Fuheng emerged from the main hall, grief still evident on his face, when suddenly someone came rushing toward him from the opposite direction. Without watching where they were going, the person collided straight into him. The full basin of sacrificial meat they were carrying spilled entirely over Fuheng.

An older palace maid angrily scolded, “How are you carrying the sacrificial meat? You’ve drenched Lord Fucha all over!”

The clumsy person immediately dropped to their knees. “This slave deserves to die! Lord Fucha, please forgive me!”

Fuheng lowered his head to look at his clothes.

A whole basin of meat—broth, grease, and all—had poured down his chest and was still dripping steadily, giving off a greasy, oily smell that made him involuntarily furrow his brows.

He was on his way to the Yangxin Hall. Appearing like this would be a serious breach of decorum before the throne. But looking at the person kneeling on the ground… it was only a young eunuch, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old.

“Ai, Lord Fucha, this child has only just entered the palace and doesn’t understand anything,” the older maid said, raising her hand as if to strike. “Let me teach him a lesson!”

“Never mind,” Fuheng said, stopping her. “He’s just a child of twelve or thirteen. There’s no need to make a fuss.”

Only then did the senior palace maid stop her hands. Looking at him somewhat nervously, she said, “Lord Fucha, with your clothes in this state, how can you go to see His Majesty? Why don’t this servant clean them for you—would that be all right?”

Fuheng frowned. “I’m in a hurry to go to the Yangxin Hall…”

“Just take off the garment and give it to this servant. We’ll only clean the soiled part, then press it quickly with a hot iron—it’ll be good as new in no time!” The senior palace maid was eager to atone for her mistake.

But it wasn’t for her own sake—she wanted to redeem the young eunuch.

Earlier, when she had beaten him, on the surface it was to vent anger for Fuheng, but in reality it was to help calm Fuheng down, lest this favored minister before the Emperor personally order the boy’s punishment. If that happened, the young eunuch wouldn’t die, but he’d still be skinned alive.

Fuheng saw through her intention and no longer stubbornly refused. After all, wearing these soiled clothes was uncomfortable anyway, so he simply nodded.

Only then did the senior palace maid breathe a sigh of relief. While leading him toward the side hall, she turned back to scold the young eunuch: “So careless in your work—and you even knocked over the offerings for the late Empress. I’ll deal with you later!”

The young eunuch repeatedly admitted his fault, then quietly said, “Sister Feicui, let this servant do the ironing. That way I can atone for my mistake.”

Feicui scoffed with a sneer. “Good that you know you were wrong. Now get over here!”

The two of them worked quickly and efficiently. Soon they had cleaned and pressed the garment Fuheng had taken off. The young eunuch then carried it respectfully in both hands and delivered it outside the side hall. The senior palace maid had originally intended to go in and assist him with changing, but Fuheng refused. The clothes were passed inside, followed by the faint rustling sound of dressing. Finally the door opened, revealing Fuheng standing there like a figure carved from jade.

The two of them lowered their eyes obediently and stood to one side of the path, respectfully seeing him off.

But when the black official boots reached the young eunuch, they paused.

“What is your name?”

The young eunuch’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly replied, “In answer to Master, this servant is called Xiaoluzi.”

“Xiaoluzi.” Fuheng was not about to punish him. Instead, he said calmly, “Breaking the offerings for the late Empress is a capital offense. What happened today—don’t let it spread any further.”

Xiaoluzi had never expected such words from him. He couldn’t help but look up at him.

Fuheng’s face was cold, yet the words he spoke were warm: “When working in the palace, you must be extremely careful. Once something goes wrong, no one will treat you like a child. Do you understand?”

Xiaoluzi felt both anxious and guilty. After a long pause, he managed to say, “Yes… Thank you, Lord Fucha.”

After giving the warning, Fuheng was about to leave when a familiar voice suddenly came from behind: “Wait.”

Fuheng thought he had misheard. How could she be here? And even if she were, why would she call out to him?

Until a wave of fragrance drifted past his side. Wei Yingluo stepped directly in front of him, gave him a meaningful glance, then said to Ming Yu, “Go guard the door.”

A consort meeting privately with an outer-court minister—the senior palace maid had already lowered her head. Without needing to be told, she pulled Xiaoluzi away. Ming Yu shot them a warning glare, signaling them not to cause any more trouble, then sighed and stood guard at the entrance.

Inside the side hall, there was complete silence.

Finally alone together, Fuheng had a thousand things he wanted to say to her, yet when the moment came, his throat suddenly went dry.

In the end, it was Wei Yingluo who spoke first. She asked, “Why haven’t you left the capital yet?”

Fuheng was no civil official. As a military man, his achievements and rank were won on the battlefield. Lingering in the capital brought him no real benefit. It would be far better to return to the barracks early and build his own power and influence.

But with her cold demeanor, to anyone who didn’t know the inside story, it looked as though she were disdainful of him and deliberately trying to drive him away.

“Yingluo.” Fuheng sighed. “After I went back, I thought about it over and over. I feel that your entering the palace… has another purpose.”

Wei Yingluo was momentarily stunned, then laughed. “Purpose? What purpose do you think I have?”

Fuheng did not answer, only slowly turned his face away.

Wei Yingluo followed his gaze and saw that on the snow-white wall hung a lifelike portrait. It was… the posthumous image of the Empress.

Wei Yingluo’s heart gave a sudden jolt, but she forced herself to remain calm on the surface: “Fuheng, don’t let your imagination run wild. I simply stayed in the Yuanmingyuan long enough. I no longer want to be a lowly palace maid, always beneath others, and I certainly don’t wish to spend my life as a servant!”

But Fuheng seemed not to hear her words. He stared at the portrait and murmured as if to himself: “There are two possibilities. First, my sister’s death was suspicious…”

“The former Empress took her own life!” Wei Yingluo interrupted loudly before he could finish. “It had nothing to do with anyone else!”

So don’t investigate! Don’t get involved! Don’t put your life in danger!

“Second…” Fuheng slowly turned his head and looked at her with sorrow. “You hate me.”

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 132: A Broken Mirror Yearns to Be Mended

Xiaoquanzi was an accomplished thief.

He knew exactly how to smuggle stolen goods out of the palace and exactly where to fence them afterward.

If he could sell, naturally he could also buy.

Noble Consort Chun could never have imagined that every single one of the “stolen goods” on display at the palace market had been purchased from outside the palace by Xiaoquanzi at Wei Yingluo’s request.

“This slave dares not claim credit,” Xiaoquanzi said, kneeling on the ground with an ingratiating smile. “This slave only ran errands. The plan was all your idea, Your Ladyship. Truly brilliant—a perfect case of transplanting flowers onto another tree. Noble Consort Chun was caught completely off guard!”

Wei Yingluo smiled coyishly and tossed the embroidered pouch in her hand to him: “A reward for you.”

Xiaoquanzi was overjoyed. If he weren’t so fond of money, he never would have done what he did earlier. He immediately reached up to catch it and showered her with gratitude: “Many thanks for Your Ladyship’s grace! From now on, this slave will climb mountains of blades…”

“Again with the ‘climb mountains of blades and descend into vats of boiling oil’ routine?” Ming Yu pouted. “You’re not tired of it, but our Ladyship has heard it enough.”

Xiaoquanzi froze, about to switch to a different speech, when he looked up and saw Wei Yingluo regarding him with that half-smile that wasn’t quite a smile—her eyes carrying unmistakable meaning: “I have an excellent memory. If you say something once, I remember it forever. If later you claim to have forgotten… I’ll make sure you remember.”

A sudden chill ran down Xiaoquanzi’s back. He pressed his forehead hard to the floor and trembled as he replied: “Yes, this slave—this slave dares not forget.”

Wei Yingluo waved her hand, dismissing him.

The moment he left, Ming Yu no longer held back her excitement: “Yingluo, you should have seen Noble Consort Chun’s face at noon! The instant she saw the stolen goods, it went deathly pale. Haha—when the Empress Dowager questioned her, she couldn’t even squeeze out a single word in her own defense. It was so satisfying!”

Wei Yingluo smiled faintly. Every word she spoke carried a hidden edge of murder: “And who was it that spread those rumors throughout the Forbidden City? Besides Concubine Xiaojia, she was the one fanning the flames. Naturally, I have to let her have a good taste of what it feels like to be gossiped about behind her back and in front of her face.”

If Noble Consort Chun could spread rumors, then naturally Wei Yingluo could do the same.

   Besides, this wasn’t even entirely rumor. So many eyes had seen it, so many ears had heard it. All it took was a little nudge to make it spread until everyone in the palace knew.

   …

“Damn it!”

In the Zhongcui Palace, an ancient qin was shoved off the table. Its strings snapped and the sound died. Noble Consort Chun trembled all over as she said, “I had carefully prepared everything to please the Empress Dowager. Now, let alone earning any merit, it would already be a blessing if I’m not blamed!”

“Wah…” The Sixth Prince, who had been playing nearby, was startled and immediately scrunched up his nose and began to cry.

Yuhu quickly had the wet nurse carry the Sixth Prince away, then stepped forward to comfort her: “Your Ladyship, please calm your anger…”

“Calm what anger!” Noble Consort Chun swept another box of chess pieces onto the floor. The pieces scattered like rain, clattering against the ground, while her tears fell in the same pattering drops. “Now everyone is saying that the eunuchs have been using the palace market I organized to fence stolen goods. Who knows what kind of shady business is really going on in there? My good reputation, built over so many years, has been completely ruined in a single day!”

“Your Ladyship, please don’t be anxious,” Yuhu said hurriedly. “The Empress Dowager and His Majesty still believe in you. It’s just a matter of face right now. Once some time passes and the storm dies down, everything will be fine!”

“Wei Yingluo used to charge around recklessly. After spending two years at the Yuanmingyuan, she’s started playing dirty tricks!” Noble Consort Chun sneered. “First she dressed up as a wine-selling girl in that improper outfit to seduce His Majesty. Then in the Jiangnan market… Thinking back carefully—if it hadn’t been for Ming Yu’s shout, she wouldn’t have drawn so many people over.”

Noble Consort Chun clutched at her chest; the anger actually made her heart and liver ache with pain.

Beyond the pain, there was also an lingering, unshakable fear.

“This person cannot be allowed to remain,” Noble Consort Chun said in a low, grave voice. “Ming Yu must have told her the truth about the Seventh Prince’s death. We absolutely cannot let her regain favor. Otherwise, in this palace… there will be no place left for me or the Sixth Prince to stand.”

“Your Ladyship, you intend to…” Yuhu seemed to understand.

“Three days from now is the anniversary of the late Empress’s death. Wei Yingluo will certainly go to Changchun Palace to pay her respects, and most likely Fucha Fuheng will be there as well.” Noble Consort Chun suddenly turned to look at her, her gaze eerie as she lowered her voice: “I can’t help but wonder—what a perfect opportunity. Do you think those two might arrange to meet there again?”

While one sits peacefully at home, disaster falls from the sky.

   Fuheng was still unaware that a plot targeting him was quietly brewing. He was turning his study upside down, practically ransacking the entire room.

“Young Master.” Qinglian stood at the doorway, holding a plate of tea snacks, watching him with uncertainty and alarm. “What are you looking for?”

“My sachet.” Fuheng didn’t even turn his head, continuing to rummage through the chest in front of him. “Where is my sachet?”

A slightly worn sachet was held up beside his cheek. Qinglian, holding it, spoke with some trepidation: “Young Master, it fell out when you were changing clothes earlier. This servant saw it was dirty, so I took it to wash…”

Fuheng snatched the sachet from her hand. His usually gentle and refined face, for the first time, turned cold and severe: “In the future, do not touch my things without permission!”

He carefully placed the sachet back inside his clothing, close against his chest, handling it with such solemn reverence that it seemed as though what he had just returned to its place was not a mere sachet, but his very heart.

“…That’s enough.” Fuheng turned his head and spoke calmly to Qinglian. “You may leave.”

Some people like to display their sorrow for others to see; others prefer to hide it away and grieve alone.

Fuheng belonged to the latter kind.

After dismissing Qinglian, he sat alone by the window, took out the sachet, and gazed at it. He sat like that for a full hour—until a sudden sound came from the bookshelf behind him. He whipped around sharply: “Who’s there?”

The bookshelf immediately fell silent again.

Fuheng rose to his full height, his right hand resting on the sword at his waist. With a flash, the blade was drawn, gleaming like snow.

He advanced step by step toward the wardrobe. After a moment of stunned realization, he sheathed the sword again, turned his head, and called out: “Steward! Steward!”

The door opened, and the steward hurried in: “Young Master, what are your orders?”

Fuheng raised his hand and pointed forward. Between the gap where the bookshelf met the wall, a small child was hiding, staring at them with wide eyes—it was Fukang’an.

“How did the young master end up here?” Fuheng asked.

“Ah ya, young master, we finally found you!” The steward saw him and was full of astonishment. “The young madam has been worried sick, searching the entire courtyard for you!”

As he spoke, he stepped forward to pick up Fukang’an. But the boy, relying on his small size, kept wriggling and squeezing into every gap he could find, refusing to let the steward touch him.

Figuring the child might be shy around strangers, Fuheng instructed: “Go tell the wet nurse to come and take him back.”

The steward: “Yes, sir.”

The steward hurried away, leaving only father and son in the room.

Fuheng knew the child’s true origins. He could refrain from hating him, but no matter what, he could not bring himself to like him. As usual, he treated the boy as if he were invisible, turned back to his desk, and resumed reading. After a short while, he suddenly looked down.

—A small hand was tugging at the hem of his robe.

Following that little hand, Fuheng slowly turned his gaze to the small face that carried a faint trace of expectation.

“What do you want?” Fuheng asked.

The child turned his head and glanced at the table. On it was the plate of tea snacks Qinglian had brought in earlier—pale bean-green pastries, their color vivid and fresh like tender new leaves on a branch, shaped into tiny, delicate, adorable little rounds.

“If you want to eat, take it yourself,” Fuheng said.

The child was quite well-behaved. Only after receiving permission did he reach out. But the table was too high and he was too short. He stood on tiptoe with all his might, yet after a long struggle he still couldn’t reach the pastries on top.

Fuheng let out a helpless sigh, lifted the boy onto his lap, picked up a piece of mung bean cake, and fed it to him.

Halfway through eating, the door creaked open. Erqing rushed in. The moment she saw the scene, without a word she charged over, slapped the half-eaten mung bean cake away from Fukang’an’s mouth, then clutched the child tightly to her chest and snapped: “Lord Fucha Fuheng, what are you trying to do?”

Fuheng replied calmly: “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

Erqing glanced at the half piece of cake on the floor; a flash of suspicion passed over her face.

Fuheng had thought he was already disappointed enough in her, yet she still managed to disappoint him even more. With a self-mocking laugh he said: “I’m not like you. I won’t harm an innocent life, and I certainly won’t use a child as a tool for revenge.”

Erqing’s expression grew somewhat unnatural.

Judging a gentleman’s heart with the heart of a petty person.

Just now she really had suspected him—suspected that Fuheng had secretly carried the child away and secretly tampered with the pastry in order to get rid of this “bastard” child.

But Fuheng was, after all, Fuheng. He was not someone else, and certainly not someone like Erqing.

“Xitara Erqing, since you have become a mother, you should take responsibility and not let the child run around unsupervised.” Fuheng stood and walked toward the door. He loathed Erqing—so much so that he could hardly bear sharing the same room with her anymore.

It was as though with every breath she took, the air itself became turbid and foul.

“Dad.”

His footsteps halted. Fuheng turned back in disbelief.

Fukang’an was clinging to his mother’s neck, yet his eyes were fixed straight on him, filled with innocence and childlike longing.

Fuheng looked at him for a long moment with a complicated expression, then finally turned his head away and left without a single word.

Behind him, Dujuan quietly approached Erqing and whispered: “Young madam, look how kind the young master is being to the little young master. Why are you so nervous?”

Erqing’s arms, wrapped around Fukang’an, stiffened for a moment. Of course she could never reveal the real reason, so she brushed it off casually: “It’s nothing.”

“Young madam,” Dujuan urged earnestly, “the young master has a good temper, an excellent family background, and now he has earned military merit and holds a high position. How many people envy you? How can you be so blessed and yet fail to appreciate it, always picking fights with him? Even if there are a thousand misunderstandings, for the little young master’s sake, you should resolve them as soon as possible!”

“What do you know?” Erqing thought to herself: It’s precisely because of this child that the grudge between us can never be resolved.

Dujuan, unaware of the true circumstances, genuinely believed the couple’s discord was merely over some trivial, petty matter. When the mistress lived uneasily, the servants naturally felt as if they were treading on thin ice. If she could help them reconcile, it would benefit everyone—the masters and the servants alike. So she continued to persuade.

“You really ought to think this through carefully. Aren’t there plenty of people out there eager to push their younger sisters or daughters into this household?” Dujuan gave several examples, then said with a tone of frustration and disappointment, “If you keep this stalemate going, aren’t you just making room for someone else? Life is so long—do you and the young master really intend to spend the rest of your days resenting each other like this?”

Hearing these words, Erqing finally began to waver.

She had Fukang’an in her heart, but she also had herself.

The status she had obtained through every possible means, the wealth and honor she had firmly believed in—how could she possibly hand them over to someone else?

“In the past he only had Wei Yingluo on his mind and never placed me in his heart. Now Wei Yingluo has become Concubine Ling, and there is no longer any possibility between them. For the rest of his life, he is destined to spend it with women other than Wei Yingluo. Why should I continue this deadlock with him?” Erqing secretly made up her mind. “Just as Dujuan said, if I keep being stubborn, I’m only pushing him into someone else’s arms. Tch! I, Xitara Erqing, am not going to be such a fool!”

That night, Fuheng returned to his study.

He had not shared a bed with Erqing for a long time and had been staying in the study, so there was a simple wooden bed placed there, covered with plain white bed curtains—simple and unadorned, just like the man himself.

He sat on the edge of the bed, bending down to take off his boots. Suddenly, from behind the bed curtains, a pair of hands slowly reached out and wrapped around his waist.

Startled, Fuheng jumped to his feet in an instant—one foot still in a boot, the other bare. His right hand instinctively went to the sword at his waist as he asked in a low, grave voice: “Who is it?”

Slender fingers slowly parted the curtains, revealing Erqing’s graceful figure. She wore only a undergarment, her fair skin exposed, long black hair cascading down. She gave him a seductive smile: “It’s me.”

Fuheng did not want to ask why she was here. From her current attire and the way she smiled, he could already guess her intentions. Suppressing the nausea in his heart, he said coldly: “Get out!”

“Fuheng!” Erqing refused to get up from the bed. She looked at him with sorrowful eyes and said, “I know I was wrong!”

Fuheng had no interest in listening to her explanations—every explanation that came out of her mouth had, in the end, always turned into a lie.

“If you won’t leave, then I will.” Fuheng turned decisively, put his boot back on, and headed for the door.

“Wait!” Erqing panicked. Not even bothering to put on shoes, she chased after him barefoot and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. Regardless of whether he wanted to hear it, she hurriedly explained: “I know I was wrong—it was all my fault! In the past I couldn’t think clearly. For these three-plus years while you were on the battlefield, though I spoke with resentment, in my heart I was always waiting, always hoping! I hoped you would come back soon, even though I knew full well how much you hated me!”

Fuheng said nothing. He placed one hand over her fingers and began prying them open one by one.

The difference in strength between men and women was already great, and Fuheng was a military man. Erqing’s fingers were quickly pried apart. Seeing that she could not hold him by force, she simply let go, ran in front of him, and tried to move him with tears.

“Fuheng, you were the one who hurt me first. That’s why, in a moment of confusion, I used that matter to take revenge on you.” Lightly brushing over the past, Erqing said to him with tears in her eyes: “We were both at fault, so let’s stop dwelling on the past and think about the future instead, all right? I promise you—from now on, I won’t make trouble anymore, I won’t cause any more scenes. I will wholeheartedly be the daughter-in-law of the Fucha family and your good wife!”

“A good daughter-in-law? A good wife?” Fuheng could not help but mock.

“Yes! I will manage the household, be filial to our parents, no longer go out to socialize, and no longer pass messages to Grandfather. As long as you say it, I am willing to do anything!” Erqing pretended not to hear the sarcasm in his words and kept making promises. Finally, she lowered her head, shy and timid, and said: “…I can also give you a son who truly belongs to you, all right?”

Fuheng laughed.

Erqing’s face lit up at first, thinking her sweet words had moved him. But soon the joy on her face faded bit by bit.

“Xitara Erqing.” Fuheng asked with a smile, “Why do you think I would agree to you?”

Erqing was stunned by his words.

“When you’re furious, you want to drag everyone into the abyss of pain with you. When you feel regret, you want to make it up to them effortlessly.” Fuheng was still smiling. “You’re always like this—feeling you’ve been wronged, believing all the faults belong to others, then feeling perfectly justified in taking revenge on them, and just as perfectly justified in forgiving yourself.”

The smile on his face made Erqing’s cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Because he was right. That was exactly the kind of person she was.

Even though her mouth spoke words of self-reflection, deep down she still didn’t believe she had done anything wrong. Everything was Fuheng’s fault. Everything was Wei Yingluo’s fault. Even the Empress was at fault. She alone was the pitiful, innocent one who had been bullied… and therefore deserved the best possible compensation.

“Stop talking about being a good daughter-in-law or a good wife.” Fuheng slowly let the smile fade from his face and said calmly, “From the moment you did that thing, you ceased to be the wife of Fucha Fuheng.”

The sword remained in its sheath; the affection had already been severed by him.

Erqing took two steps after his retreating figure, then remembered she was only wearing a undergarment. Afraid the servants might see her, she had no choice but to hug her arms to her chest and retreat. Gritting her teeth, her face full of unwillingness, she muttered, “No, I don’t care. I will make you forgive me. You will definitely forgive me.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 131: Stolen Goods

Wei Yingluo lifted the white-jade wine flask to her own lips and took a swig straight from the spout. Just as Hongli frowned, she suddenly twisted her body, her voice turning soft and coy in an exaggerated whine: “Your Majesty, this concubine has loved and served you with all her heart, yet you’ve fallen for that vixen and cast this concubine aside. In a moment of despair, this concubine deliberately targeted her! Even if this concubine has a thousand faults, it’s all because I love you!”

   Her manner, her affectation, the tone and gestures of her complaint—they were exactly like Concubine Xiaojia!

Hongli stared in stunned disbelief. Suddenly Wei Yingluo tossed the wine flask aside. The earlier coquettish posturing vanished. She slowly walked over to a flower vase, reached out with a slender hand to pluck a single orchid, tucked it in front of her, and gently inhaled its fragrance—quietly beautiful, the very picture of a refined noble lady in her boudoir.

…She had become the very image of Noble Consort Chun.

“Concubine Ling and Lord Fucha have known each other for a long time. It was merely a chance encounter—they exchanged a few words, that’s all.” Her expression was gentle, and even her voice somehow took on a faint resemblance to the other woman’s. “Even if there really had been some private affection, that’s all in the past. Now that Concubine Ling has entered the palace, those old matters are nothing more than clouds that have passed. Your Majesty, I believe Concubine Ling is absolutely not the kind of woman who would climb over the wall with a lover or act shamelessly.”

“Wei Yingluo…” Hongli looked at her with both shock and suspicion. “What exactly are you doing?”

Wei Yingluo placed the flower back into the vase, then returned to Hongli’s side. With every step she took, she gradually transformed from Noble Consort Chun back into the Empress—respectful, dignified, and virtuous: “Please rest assured, Your Majesty. As the head of the six palaces, I will strictly investigate whoever is spreading these rumors behind the scenes and clear Concubine Ling’s name.”

   Hongli couldn’t help but pull her into his arms. He stared at her for a long time, his gaze half full of doubt, half full of suspicion.

“You’ve only recently entered the palace, yet you seem more familiar with them than anyone else.” He spoke slowly. “From what you just said, it’s almost as if you personally overheard what they were saying.”

He suspected that Wei Yingluo had bribed servants from other palaces—even perhaps some of the servants around him.

But on second thought, that seemed impossible.

If Wei Yingluo truly had such far-reaching influence and connections, he never would have caught her meeting Lord Fucha privately in the Imperial Garden. Someone would have tipped her off long in advance so she could avoid him, and none of the subsequent trouble would have happened.

Sure enough, Wei Yingluo gave a smug little smile. Without any hesitation, she sat right down on his lap, tilted her head, and said to him: “It’s really not such a big deal. After all, women understand women best.”

The enemy understands the enemy best—Hongli silently completed the second half of the sentence in his mind, though his face remained perfectly calm: “You knew how they were talking about you behind your back, yet you still dared to meet Lord Fucha in the garden?”

Here it comes!

   Wei Yingluo’s spirits lifted—she knew the real drama of the evening had finally arrived.

His calmness was only surface-deep. If he could truly face this matter with composure, he wouldn’t have avoided her for so many days.

Yet Wei Yingluo could not bring it up herself. If she did, the thorn in his heart would only dig in deeper. She had to find every possible way to make him raise the issue first, so there could be a chance to resolve it.

“Whether I leave or stay, what difference does it make?” Wei Yingluo shrugged, answering with apparent indifference. “If I had turned and walked away the moment I saw him, they would have said, ‘Oh look at that Concubine Ling— the second she sees Lord Fucha she turns tail and runs. Clearly guilty and heart in a panic!’”

Hongli burst out laughing.

If she were truly indifferent, she wouldn’t have appeared in that Jiangnan marketplace outfit, wouldn’t have worn those clothes, wouldn’t have spoken in that perfect Wu soft accent, and wouldn’t have said to him: “Dear customer, would you like some wine? Sangluo, Xinfeng, chrysanthemum, bamboo-leaf green, or daughter’s red—which one would you like?”

“Your Majesty, rumors can confuse the crowd; three people repeating a lie can make it seem like truth.” Sure enough, she quickly dropped the carefree act and looked at him earnestly. “Your concubine only hopes that, while bestowing your favor on me, you can also give me a little more trust. Otherwise, even if I had a body of iron, their saliva would wear me down to nothing!”

In truth, Hongli’s anger had already subsided by half.

Compared to her private meeting with Lord Fucha, what had truly infuriated him was her apparent indifference toward him.

Now, seeing how much she cared, his heart was completely satisfied. Like a fierce tiger having its chin scratched, he narrowed his eyes, lifted her chin with one finger, and said with a half-smile: “In the entire harem, no one has more tricks up her sleeve than you. Always coming to tease me…”

Wei Yingluo laughed too. The wine pot from earlier was still sitting on the low table beside them. She picked it up again, shook it toward him, and spoke in that soft Wu accent with a charming smile: “So, dear customer, are you going to drink this pot of wine or not?”

“What wine?” Hongli asked with a laugh. “Sangluo, Xinfeng, chrysanthemum, bamboo-leaf green, or daughter’s red?”

“None of those. The name of this wine…” Wei Yingluo took a sip straight from the spout, then leaned in and kissed him.

A wine called Yingluo flowed from her lips into his throat, soothing his heart.

The lotus curtains warmed; the night stretched until dawn.

The news that Wei Yingluo had regained the Emperor’s favor spread through every palace. The one most furious of all was Noble Consort Chun.

“Not only has the Empress used her idea to overshadow my Suzhou market, but now even Wei Yingluo is borrowing my east wind and regaining favor!” Noble Consort Chun bit her fingernail, clearly already aware that Wei Yingluo had disguised herself as a wine seller to lure Hongli over.

“Your Ladyship, please calm your anger. The urgent priority right now is to carry out the donation properly,” Yuhu advised gently from the side.

“Exactly. Serving with beauty is only temporary; a good reputation is what lasts.” Noble Consort Chun glanced at the Sixth Prince sleeping soundly not far away, and her gaze softened. “Even if not for myself, I must accumulate some good name for the Sixth Prince, so that in the future…”

Although the idea of donating money and goods had been proposed by the Empress, the Jiangnan market had been Noble Consort Chun’s original creation. She quickly took over the entire task, working tirelessly for three months until it finally bore fruit. On this day snow blanketed the capital; colorful oil-paper umbrellas bloomed above the heads of the noble ladies, looking from above like a riot of flowers in full bloom.

“Empress Dowager.” Noble Consort Chun supported the Dowager’s arm and smiled. “Over these three months, the donations from every palace have all arrived. Many princes’ consorts and titled ladies heard the news and generously contributed as well. The palace market will first be held inside the Forbidden City for one day, open to ministers and palace personnel. Once preparations are complete outside Shenwu Gate, the market will move there and be opened to merchants and common people. All the money raised will be donated in full.”

The Empress Dowager smiled and nodded.

The Empress also smiled. “Empress Dowager, Noble Consort Chun prepared a detailed plan early on; it only awaits His Majesty’s approval before it can be implemented. In the future, outside Shenwu Gate the market will open on the fourth day of every month, displaying all kinds of goods for free trade. Old items from the Imperial Household Department’s inventory need not be transported elsewhere—they can be sold directly from storage here. The proceeds can either subsidize palace expenses or be donated entirely.”

Noble Consort Chun did not forget to please the Dowager further. “When Your Majesty is in the mood, you could also stroll through the palace market—it would be a good way to observe the sentiments of the merchants. Of course, this is merely an idea I came up with by adapting the model of the Ming-era markets. If Your Majesty finds anything inappropriate, I will correct it at once.”

The Empress Dowager patted her hand. “Noble Consort Chun, these ideas are excellent. I like them very much. You have put in great effort.”

Noble Consort Chun smiled charmingly. “Your Majesty, look—there is an antique stall ahead selling Xuande-period bronze vessels and the new enamelware produced by the Imperial Household Department this year. Shall we go take a look?”

The Empress Dowager had been all smiles, but her expression froze the moment she saw the antique stall. Aunt Liu, who was beside her, stepped forward to examine it and exclaimed in shock, “Empress Dowager, these are items lost from Shoukang Palace!”

She rummaged through the goods and soon pulled out several pieces. “Look, this jade thumb ring, this green jade ruyi scepter, and this floral spittoon… weren’t these all old items from Shoukang Palace? They vanished without a trace—we searched the entire Forbidden City and found nothing. And now they suddenly appear at the palace market!”

“Oh my!” From the crowd, Ming Yu suddenly pushed her way forward, exclaiming loudly. “My lady, isn’t this the embroidered pouch you lost?”

The palace servants had originally gathered to watch the excitement. Hearing her cry out, they all pressed forward too. One after another, they began identifying items—soon a great many lost belongings had been found.

“What palace market? It’s clearly a den of thieves!” Concubine Xiaojia curled her lip. She too had found a pair of stolen eastern-pearl earrings on one of the stalls and naturally would not miss such a perfect chance to strike at her rival. “Everything that’s gone missing from our palaces ends up here for sale, and the money raised is used to cover palace deficits. Hah, what a clever abacus they’ve worked out!”

With such a huge black pot dumped squarely on her head, Noble Consort Chun broke into a cold sweat. She knelt before the Empress Dowager. “Empress Dowager, someone must have known the palace market was opening and deliberately mixed these stolen jewels in to sell them. I truly had no knowledge of this!”

Concubine Xiaojia rolled her eyes. “How easily you say it. The eunuchs in the palace have dirty hands; there’s a vast chain of interests behind it all—how the goods are transported, how they evade notice, how the stolen items are disposed of, and how the profits are divided—it’s all a well-oiled system. Who knows whether Noble Consort Chun accepted some benefits and became part of the chain!”

Noble Consort Chun’s face changed drastically. She hurriedly defended herself. “Empress Dowager, I truly knew nothing about it. I never imagined those despicable people would dare use the palace market to fence stolen goods. I will investigate the source thoroughly—please forgive me, Empress Dowager!”

What had started as a perfectly good charitable endeavor had now completely soured. The Empress Dowager felt a wave of disgust. With an indifferent expression she said, “I am tired. I shall return to the palace first.”

Everyone respectfully saw the Empress Dowager off. The Empress then walked over to Noble Consort Chun with her hands behind her back and sighed. “Noble Consort Chun, you really were too careless in handling this. A perfectly good palace market has been tainted with stolen goods. The Empress Dowager sees clearly and knows you are not involved, but once word spreads, everyone will say you used the market to sell stolen property. That reputation will be truly terrible. I hope you investigate thoroughly and find out exactly what happened!”

After so much effort to seize this assignment, after working so hard and even investing so much of her own money, only to end up with this result—Noble Consort Chun was inwardly seething with hatred, though on the surface she could only reply, “…Yes.”

When flowers are added to brocade, few come forward to praise them; when someone falls into a well, many throw stones. Such a perfect opportunity—the other consorts would never let it pass. Whether or not anything had actually gone missing from their palaces, whether or not the lost items even belonged to them, they all swarmed forward to point fingers and claim their “stolen” goods.

Wei Yingluo had never been the forgiving or long-suffering type. She stepped forward as well, pointing at various items on the stall: “This one, this one, and this one—they all belong to my Yanxi Palace. I’m not like some people with money to burn; I’m poor as can be. I have to take these treasures back!”

Noble Consort Chun’s gaze turned icy cold. Someone was framing her, deliberately planting stolen goods at the palace market to erase all credit for her efforts.

And the person she suspected most was none other than Wei Yingluo!

“Wei Yingluo!” Noble Consort Chun said, her eyes brimming with resentment as she tested the waters. “You really are something!”

Wei Yingluo blinked innocently, her reply watertight: “Noble Consort Niangniang, what are you talking about? This is simply returning things to their rightful owner. Why are you so upset? Could it be—as they say—that Noble Consort has been sheltering thieving eunuchs? No, no, no—Noble Consort Niangniang, you are a talented lady of Suzhou; something as filthy as stolen money would naturally never touch your hands. Others may doubt you, but I believe you!”

The words sounded eerily familiar. Upon closer reflection, they were almost an exact echo of what Noble Consort Chun had once said to persuade Hongli: “Concubine Ling and Lord Fucha were acquainted in the past; they merely ran into each other and exchanged a few words. Even if there was once some private affection, that’s all in the past. Now that Concubine Ling has entered the palace, those old matters are nothing more than clouds that have drifted away. Your Majesty, I believe Concubine Ling is absolutely not the kind of woman who would climb over the wall with a red apricot branch, shameless and without virtue.”

Subtle barbs, half belief and half disbelief.

Noble Consort Chun stared at her for a long moment, then suddenly laughed: “Very well! Very well! Someone—help Concubine Ling carry all her things back. Not a single item is to be left behind!”

In a grand procession, piece by piece, the planted evidence was “returned to its rightful owner” and made its way back to Yanxi Palace.

Casually toying with an embroidered pouch in her hand, Wei Yingluo looked down at the little eunuch kneeling before her and smiled faintly: “Xiaoquanzi, you did very well.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 130: Jiangnan Melody

   Why can’t it be you?

   Wei Yingluo’s gaze was empty and distant. After a long silence, she sighed: “I once thought I would stay in the palace forever, stay by Her Ladyship Empress side… and never leave.”

Those years in Changchun Palace—scattered and fragmented, like sweet preserved fruits, like drifting maple leaves—interspersed through the cracks of memory. They were the sweetest taste, the most beautiful scenery, something she could never forget in her lifetime.

“When Her Ladyship was alive, I served Her Ladyship. When Her Ladyship was gone, I served the little prince.” A smile rose on Wei Yingluo’s face—one that Ming Yu had not seen in a long time, a smile that came straight from the heart. “When the little prince grows up and comes of age, I will return to Her Ladyship’s side, guard her tomb, keep her company, talk to her, make her happy… until my bones turn to dust.”

“Yingluo…” Ming Yu’s eyes grew hot with tears.

The woman before her no longer knew what happiness was, for her happiness had long been buried in the yellow earth alongside the Empress.

“…All right, let’s end this topic here.” Wei Yingluo waved her hand, unwilling to discuss it any further. “Find someone for me… someone who can speak the Jiangnan dialect.”

The Forbidden City was full of hidden talents—even someone who spoke the Daishi language could be found, let alone someone who spoke the soft Jiangnan tongue.

There was no need to leave Yanxi Palace. Ming Yu simply called over a sweeping maid from the courtyard.

The maid had only recently entered the palace and had not yet mastered standard Mandarin. As soon as she opened her mouth, the Jiangnan accent spilled out: “This servant—”

Hearing her voice, Wei Yingluo nodded secretly to herself and asked, “Do you know how to read?”

“I know a few characters,” the maid replied.

Wei Yingluo gave Ming Yu a meaningful glance. Ming Yu stepped forward, unfolded a piece of paper, and showed her the words. In her soft Wu-region accent, the maid read each character one by one: “Dear guest, would you like some wine? Sangluo, Xinfeng, chrysanthemum, bamboo-leaf green, and also daughter’s red—which one would the guest like?”

After she finished, she cautiously looked toward Wei Yingluo.

Wei Yingluo reclined in her chair, eyes closed, and said faintly, “Read it again.”

“Dear guest, would you like some wine? Sangluo, Xinfeng, chrysanthemum, bamboo-leaf green, and also daughter’s red—which one would the guest like?”

“Again.”

“Dear guest, would you like some wine? Sangluo, Xinfeng, chrysanthemum, bamboo-leaf green, and also daughter’s red—which one would the guest like?”

“Again.”

“Dear guest…”

The soft, lilting Wu accent echoed through Yanxi Palace, rising and falling, and in this way half a month passed.

On this day the sunlight was brilliant. A grand procession moved along the palace path.

“Noble Consort Chun.” The Empress Dowager walked at the very front, a strip of yellow silk tied over her eyes. With a hint of curiosity she asked, “What exactly are you up to with all this mystery?”

Noble Consort Chun supported her arm and smiled as they walked. “Your Majesty, just listen.”

“Fresh flowers for sale! Two stems for one copper coin!”

“Honored guest, would you like some tea? Finest Biluochun!”

“Sister, buy some cloth! Brand-new stock just arrived!”

A bamboo flute played a Jiangnan tune, and the street was filled with the cries of vendors.

The Empress Dowager reached up and swiftly pulled off the yellow silk from her eyes. Looking around, she saw that both sides of the palace path had been transformed into countless little stalls in the Jiangnan style—some selling tea, some selling pastries, some selling antiques and jade.

Behind each stall stood either a eunuch or a palace maid, dressed like ordinary street vendors and acting the part. The moment someone approached, they would call out loudly. At first glance, one might truly believe they had stepped out of the Forbidden City and straight into a bustling Jiangnan marketplace.

“Noble Consort Chun, what is all this?” The Empress Dowager turned to her in astonishment.

Noble Consort Chun smiled gently: “Empress Dowager, aren’t you always longing for the scenery of Jiangnan? The Forbidden City has no small bridges or flowing streams, so I’ve tried to recreate it from memory—having the eunuchs and palace maids set up a palace market. Though it lacks the tender willows and murmuring water, there are still wine flags fluttering and crowds weaving through the streets. Consider it a small way to bring the Empress Dowager a moment of delight!”

The Empress Dowager gazed at the lively scene before her and sighed with feeling: “Noble Consort Chun, you truly have a thoughtful heart!”

“Noble Consort Chun’s idea is ingenious, but after all, this is not the real thing,” Hongli said as he walked on the Empress Dowager’s other side, giving a slight smile. “I have already decided: in front of Wanshou Temple, along both banks of the Imperial River, I will have a Suzhou Street specially built for you; Empress Dowager. When it is completed, you will be able to see the true scenery of Jiangnan with your own eyes.”

The Empress Dowager was both delighted and worried: “Emperor, isn’t this too much trouble and expense for the people…?”

Hongli replied: “As long as the Empress Dowager is happy, I am completely satisfied.”

Behind them, a crowd of concubines watched Noble Consort Chun with eyes full of jealousy and resentment.

How could they allow her to steal all the glory? Suddenly the Empress smiled and spoke: “Empress Dowager, Noble Consort Chun is indeed clever to quietly prepare such a surprise. In my opinion, since the palace market has already been set up, we shouldn’t merely look at it—we should put it to good use!”

The Empress Dowager asked curiously: “How so?”

Right beside them happened to be a jade stall. The Empress casually slipped the jade bangle from her own wrist and bent down to place it on the stall.

“The war in Jinchuan has only just ended. Though the Great Qing emerged victorious, the casualties were heavy. Many families of the fallen and wounded soldiers have received only very limited compensation, and orphans and widows have nowhere to turn.” The Empress slowly straightened up. “I suggest that every concubine in the palace begin by donating jewelry and valuables for a charity sale. Of course, since it is for charity, it should not be limited to officials and palace staff—we should take these stalls outside the palace gates. The money raised can be used to provide relief for the wounded and bereaved.”

The Empress Dowager, who had always been devoted to acts of charity, immediately intoned “Amitabha Buddha.” Hongli was visibly moved as well: “Empress, your consideration is extremely thorough. It is indeed an excellent idea, and it will not let Noble Consort Chun’s careful preparations go to waste.”

Having her flowers offered to the Buddha by someone else left Noble Consort Chun deeply displeased inside, but on the surface she smiled: “It is the Empress who thinks so comprehensively. I only thought of making the Empress Dowager happy and never considered such a deeper layer. In that case, allow me to do my small part as well!”

With that, she removed the gemstone eardrops from her ears and placed them on the jade stall.

Hearing this, the other concubines all began to take off the jewelry from their heads and bodies, piling everything together.

Hongli stood with his hands behind his back, smiling as he watched the scene. Suddenly his gaze paused, fixing on a wine stall not far away.

A thousand orioles sing amid green willows and red flowers; wine flags flutter over riverside villages and mountain towns. A bright red wine banner billowed in the wind. Beneath it stood four enormous black wine jars, a wooden table, and several chairs.

A young wine-selling girl stood in front of the jars, holding a long ladle. Fine wine poured from the ladle into a bowl with a clear, tinkling sound.

An old eunuch sat before the wine bowl, slowly finishing the drink in his cup. Then he fumbled in his robes, produced two copper coins, and placed them on the table. The girl reached out to collect them when a shadow suddenly fell over her. Looking up, she saw Hongli staring at her with a cold face: “Why are you here?”

Wei Yingluo was dressed in plain cloth and a simple thorn hairpin. She gave a radiant smile, drew a handkerchief from her waist, and neatly wiped the table. When she spoke, her voice carried the soft, authentic Wu dialect: “Dear customer, would you like some wine? Sangluo, Xinfeng, chrysanthemum, bamboo-leaf green, and daughter’s red—which one would you like, sir?”

Hongli looked her up and down. Having grown accustomed to the palace’s cultivated flowers, seeing this wildflower for a change felt remarkably fresh and novel: “Concubine Ling, what is this costume of yours?”

“Today there is no Concubine Ling—only a wine-selling girl. These are all famous Jiangnan wines, a rare treat!” Yingluo said with mock seriousness. “If you don’t buy, I’ll have to sell to someone else! Sangluo twenty wen a pot, Xinfeng twenty-five wen, chrysanthemum wine thirty wen, bamboo-leaf green twenty wen, daughter’s red twenty-five wen—come buy, come buy!”

Hongli became interested and decided to play along, adopting the manner of a customer. He pointed at one of the jars: “What wine is this?”

Wei Yingluo scooped up a ladleful and offered it to him: “Authentic Dukang wine, sir—give it a sniff.”

Hongli’s lips curved slightly. Like the most difficult of customers, he found fault left and right: “Sangluo and bamboo-leaf green both come from Shanxi—when did they move to Suzhou? Before selling wine, shouldn’t you at least check the market prices? Who would dare buy from you like this?”

Wei Yingluo was momentarily stunned.

Footsteps sounded behind them. Hongli turned slightly and saw the Empress Dowager and the others approaching. He frowned faintly, quickly took the ladle from Wei Yingluo’s palm, casually tasted a sip, smacked his lips, and declared: “This wine is no good. Empress Dowager, let’s go look ahead!”

Having finished speaking, he turned and led the Empress Dowager and the others down a different path.

He was just like a drinker with a gluttonous stomach, unwilling to share the fine wine he had finally found with anyone else.

Wei Yingluo: “Your Majesty, my wine ladle! You still haven’t given it back to me—”

Before her words were finished, Hongli had already unfastened the jade pendant from his waist and handed it to her behind his back. “This can cover the wine money!”

Wei Yingluo was momentarily stunned. She reached out to take it, only to realize that the “wine money” was a pretense—the real intent was teasing. Hongli lightly pinched the center of her palm.

It was like lovers in the heat of passion, secretly writing a time and a place in each other’s palms behind their elders’ backs, planning to meet when the moon rose above the willow branches, in the twilight after dusk.

   Wei Yingluo slowly withdrew her hand and smiled toward his departing figure.

That night, Hongli returned to Yanxi Palace after a long absence.

Li Yu’s eyes darted left and right, following his master’s steps back and forth, yet he always lingered outside the palace gate, never stepping inside.

Suddenly a line of palace maids approached from the distance. Leading them was Ming Yu, carrying a redwood food box in her hands—she had apparently just returned from the Imperial Tea Bureau with a midnight snack for her mistress. When she looked up and saw Hongli, she quickly curtsied and prepared to leave. Hongli remained silent, but Li Yu grew annoyed: “What kind of manners are these? Seeing His Majesty arrive, you still don’t go and ask your mistress to come out and greet him?”

Ming Yu lowered her eyes demurely and replied, “My mistress said that since His Majesty is sure to pass by without entering, she won’t waste her energy.”

Hongli had originally been hesitating about whether to go in or not. Now, provoked by her words, his expression darkened and he made up his mind. “She’s being clever again!”

With that, he no longer hesitated and strode toward the sleeping chamber.

Behind him, Ming Yu’s lips curved in the faintest, almost imperceptible smile. Suddenly Li Yu’s voice sounded beside her ear, slow and deliberate: “Your mistress is scheming against His Majesty again, isn’t she?”

Ming Yu quickly suppressed the smile on her face and feigned innocence: “What are you saying, Chief Steward Li? My mistress was simply speaking the plain truth!”

“Keep pretending—go on pretending.” Li Yu tsked twice. “But let me tell you this: His Majesty is harboring anger in his heart right now. Even if Concubine Ling manages to draw him here, it might not be a good thing!”

Ming Yu froze and looked anxiously toward the sleeping chamber.

The doors of the bedchamber opened and then closed again, shutting the eunuchs and maids outside.

“Concubine Ling.” Hongli looked at the person approaching him. “What is this outfit you’re wearing?”

Wei Yingluo walked gracefully toward him, still dressed in the same wine-seller’s costume from earlier that day: a skirt the color of freshly brewed green-ant wine, a wooden hairpin slanted in her cloud-like chignon, and on her raised right hand, a small white-jade wine flask dangling from her fingertip.

“‘The flower path has never been swept for guests; today the humble door opens for you alone.’” Wei Yingluo twirled her finger, making the little wine flask chime softly with a ding-dong. “What wine would the honored guest like to drink tonight?”

Hongli neither took her wine nor answered her question. He looked like a man who had wandered into the wrong shop, as though the very next step would carry him away from this place—and from her.

And that was only natural.

A commoner’s attire could startle him for only a moment; a snatch of a southern folk tune could draw him here at most. Wei Yingluo knew full well that both had limited effect—neither was enough to change his heart. To truly melt the ice between them and reconcile…

—it all depended on what she did next.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 129: The Thief

When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter.

   Without the gardenias, hearts drifted away as well. The mood in Yanxi Palace grew increasingly demoralized; hardly anyone was willing to work properly anymore. Everyone was quietly looking for a new path forward.

A crescent moon hung like a hook above Yanxi Palace. Moonlight fell like snow, illuminating a furtive figure.

The shadow slipped out from the side hall, clutching a blue cloth bundle to his chest. Moving with practiced ease, he headed toward the palace exit—only to discover that tonight was not like the previous nights. Someone had been lying in wait, patient as a hunter by the stump, for quite some time.

“Stop right there!” Ming Yu stepped out from behind a pillar, flanked by two sturdy palace women. “What are you hiding in your arms?”

Thud!

Inside the bedchamber, the little eunuch was shoved to the floor in front of Wei Yingluo. His face was ashen; he kowtowed frantically like pounding garlic.

“Your Ladyship Concubine Ling! This slave knows he was wrong! Beat me, scold me, punish me however you wish—only please, Your Ladyship, do not send this slave to the Bureau of Careful Punishment! This slave will surely die there!”

Ming Yu spat in disgust.

“You ingrate who eats what’s inside and claws outside! Now that outsiders are bullying Yanxi Palace, you dare to do the same? Your Ladyship—send him to the Bureau of Careful Punishment!”

A blue cloth bundle was spread out on the table, containing the items he had stolen that night: an incense burner, a paperweight, a pair of bracelets, and a silk handkerchief. Wei Yingluo raised an eyebrow, bypassing the other valuable objects and picking up only the handkerchief to examine it. The soft, water-like silk bore an embroidered gardenia flower—vivid and lifelike, with six petals in a pale yellow hue.

“…Xiaoquanzi.” She turned her gaze back to the little eunuch and called his name calmly. “You stole my things. Exactly where were you planning to sell them?”

“This…”

“Speak! Otherwise, I’ll send you straight to the Bureau of Careful Punishment at once!”

“Yes, yes!” Xiaoquanzi was no tough bone to crack; the moment she threatened him, he immediately softened. “It’s common for eunuchs in the palace to steal and sell goods. Even in the Qianqing Palace and Yangxin Hall, few don’t smuggle something out! As long as the masters don’t find out, there are always channels to get things out of the palace. They find acquaintances at Liulichang to sell them off… and the money comes quickly!”

“You can sell them, but can you also buy them back?” Wei Yingluo asked him an odd question.

“Of course. Concubine Ling, what do you wish this humble one to buy back?” Xiaoquanzi said hurriedly.

Wei Yingluo gave a strange smile. “No need for now. Let me think first… about how exactly I should punish you…”

In the folk world, petty thieves are called rat-like scum, and there is reason for it—at least Xiaoquanzi’s courage was about the size of a mouse’s. The moment he heard Wei Yingluo was going to punish him, he immediately threw away all face and dignity, weeping and wailing, “Mistress! Mistress, please spare this lowly dog’s life! From now on, this slave is willing to climb mountains of blades and plunge into seas of fire for you—never a word of complaint!”

He swore and vowed for a long while until Wei Yingluo finally spoke slowly: “I can spare you, but you must remember every word you just said and never forget it.”

Seeing a chance to live, Xiaoquanzi no longer cared about anything else. Overjoyed, he cried, “Thank you, Mistress! Thank you, Mistress!”

Ming Yu, watching with disappointment and frustration, grumbled the moment he left: “Why did Niangniang let him go and handle it so lightly? How are we supposed to manage the servants below in the future?”

“I’m keeping him because he’s still useful.” Wei Yingluo toyed with the brocade handkerchief in her hand.

“What use can a little scoundrel like that be? Unless you think he can somehow make His Majesty change his mind?” Ming Yu said bitterly. Lately, this was all she could think about; worry had already turned several strands of her hair white.

“Who knows—he might actually help with this matter.” Wei Yingluo gave another eerie smile.

Xiaoquanzi had no idea Wei Yingluo was still thinking about him. He only felt he had reacted quickly and escaped disaster by luck.

For safety’s sake, he didn’t dare make any reckless moves that night. He obediently returned to his room to sleep, but he didn’t close his eyes once. After waiting several days and seeing no sign of trouble, he finally slipped into Chuxiu Palace and found Concubine Xiaojia’s maid, Lan’er.

“What took you so long?” Lan’er scolded him the moment she saw him. “Why are you only coming now?”

Xiaoquanzi didn’t dare admit he had already been caught. He dodged the question vaguely: “There have been a lot of thefts in the palace lately; everyone’s on high alert. But rest assured, sister—the item you wanted, I’ve already gotten it…”

As he spoke, he pulled a hairpin from his sleeve. It looked ordinary at first glance, yet it shared the same distinctive feature as the earlier handkerchief: at the head of the pin was a vivid, lifelike gardenia flower.

Lan’er’s eyes lit up. Just as she reached out to take it, he tucked the hairpin back into his bosom and looked at her with a cheeky grin.

“Hmph!” Understanding immediately, Lan’er scoffed with a sneer, opened the pouch at her waist, and took out a small gold ingot.

Like a dog seeing a meat bone, Xiaoquanzi’s gaze locked onto it and refused to move. When Lan’er reached out again, he swiftly handed over the hairpin in exchange for the gold ingot. Without minding the dirt, he popped it straight into his mouth to bite and test it, then hugged it tightly and giggled foolishly.

Lan’er couldn’t stand his pathetic dog-like behavior. She put the hairpin away and dismissively waved him off: “You can go now. Be careful when you leave—don’t let anyone see you…”

“Yes, yes.” Having gotten the money, Xiaoquanzi replied casually, “I’ll definitely be careful. I won’t let Concubine Ling see me.”

“It’s not just Concubine Ling you need to watch out for—there’s also the Empress, Noble Consort Chun…” Lan’er listed the mistresses of each palace one by one, her voice low and grave. “In this palace, enemies are everywhere…”

If one compared Hongli to a piece of strategic territory, then each consort in the rear palace was a valiant general fighting to seize that vital ground—using every trick, every scheme, and even the servants around them were secretly contending in the shadows.

“Ming Yu, you were looking for me?”

At the Imperial Guard Station, Hailancha hurried out.

Ming Yu stood prettily at the doorway, her face lightly powdered, her pair of willow-leaf brows drawn long and fine. The sight made Hailancha’s heart itch. If there hadn’t been other people still inside the guard station, he would have reached out to trace her brows with his fingertip.

Her face was like a lotus, her brows like willow leaves. Ming Yu gave him a sweet smile and handed over a redwood food box, speaking softly and gently: “Thank you for delivering the reward. I came to thank you properly.”

“I didn’t really help much…” Hailancha smiled as he accepted it. He lifted the lid and saw that on top lay a bowl of Dongpo pork—rich but not greasy, glossy red-brown—and beneath it a layer of preserved vegetables mixed with a few soybeans.

This was exactly the way he had once casually mentioned to her as his favorite preparation.

Hailancha had always been straightforward. He simply picked up a piece with his fingers, popped it into his mouth, then licked the sauce from his fingertips. “Delicious. Which chef made this?”

“I made it myself,” Ming Yu said, lowering her head. “Do you… like it?”

His licking paused. Hailancha laughed. “…I like it very much.”

The glossy red Dongpo pork was enticing, but her cheeks were even more so. For a moment Hailancha forgot everything else and simply stared at her, until her face grew redder than the pork. Embarrassed, she glanced left and right, then suddenly looked in one direction and asked: “What are they doing over there?”

Not far away, a group of guards were busily at work—some carrying flower vases, others transporting bolts of silk. One of them was even cradling a tall wine-shop banner in his arms.

Hailancha followed her gaze and answered casually: “Oh, it’s an order from Noble Consort Chun.”

Ming Yu blinked. “What does she want to do?”

The matter was supposed to be kept secret, but seeing the curiosity in her eyes, Hailancha couldn’t help but smile. “Fine, you’re not an outsider anyway. I’ll tell you…”

He leaned close to Ming Yu’s ear. It was less about answering her question and more about finding an excuse to get near her. His warm breath poured into her ear; her eyelashes trembled slightly, her cheeks grew even redder. Halfway through his explanation she pushed him away and said: “I—I still have things to do. I’m going back first.”

Behind her, Hailancha chuckled mischievously, and the sound made her steps quicken even more.

By the time she returned to Yanxi Palace, she patted her own cheeks to calm herself down, then knocked and entered. Facing Wei Yingluo, she said: “Your Ladyship, I just received some information…”

She relayed everything she had learned from Hailancha. Wei Yingluo listened quietly, then nodded. “I understand… Ming Yu.”

She turned fully toward her and looked at Ming Yu with utmost seriousness: “You don’t need to do things like this.”

Ming Yu was stunned.

“Affection is something that only diminishes the more you use it,” Wei Yingluo said. Though they were the same age, her many experiences gave her the tone of someone who had already lived through it all. “Hailancha is a good man. I don’t want you to exhaust the affection between the two of you because of me.”

“I don’t care!” Ming Yu said stubbornly.

“But I do care!” Wei Yingluo replied swiftly.

She rose from the dressing table and walked step by step toward Ming Yu. The difference in status, the distinction between mistress and servant, seemed to shrink with every step she took.

Just like back in Changchun Palace, they stood face to face once more, hands tightly clasped.

“In this palace, too many people end up miserable because what they seek they cannot obtain,” Wei Yingluo said, gazing at her with tenderness as she gently stroked her cheek. “At least one of us should find happiness, don’t you think?”

Ming Yu lowered her eyes for a moment, then suddenly looked up. “The one who finds happiness… why can’t it be you?”

Wei Yingluo’s eyes—

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