Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 108: Bereavement [Part 1]

   In just one night, the once elegantly carved and jade-adorned warm chamber had been reduced to ruins. Wisps of black smoke rose from the broken tiles and crumbled walls, only to be quickly doused by splashing water.

Changchun Palace, which had been brightly lit and festooned with lanterns yesterday, was today filled with wails of grief.

“Get away!” The Empress clutched the swaddled bundle to her chest with desperate strength, wildly hurling pillows and bedding at the imperial physicians, palace maids, and others. “Don’t come near! The Seventh Prince is fine—he’s fine!”

Lord Hongli had just started to approach when Court Physician Zhang blocked him: “Your Majesty, the Empress is overwhelmed with grief and has lost her senses. You must not go near her!”

Pushing Physician Zhang aside, Lord Hongli strode quickly to the Empress and said: “Empress, Yongcong is already gone. Let him go first—let the physicians tend to your injuries, all right?”

Like a startled mother beast, the Empress clung tightly to the bundle and shrank into the corner, staring at him warily. After a full night, her burns looked even more ghastly and hideous; fresh blood continued to seep from the wounds.

This could not go on. Gritting his teeth, Lord Hongli suddenly stepped forward, wrapped his arms forcefully around the Empress, and barked: “Take the prince away!”

“No!” The swaddled bundle was torn from her arms by several palace servants. With her hands and feet restrained by Lord Hongli, the Empress could not move. She could only scream with heart-rending anguish: “Give Yongcong back to me—give him back!”

At Lord Hongli’s signal, the palace servants carried the bundle out of Changchun Palace. Watching them leave, despair filled the Empress’s eyes. Suddenly she turned and roared at Lord Hongli: “It was you—it was you who took Yongcong away! Why did you take my son from me?”

Lord Hongli’s heart was filled with unbearable sorrow, yet he still tried to comfort her: “Because he is dead, Empress. Yongcong is already dead! Pull yourself together—don’t lose control like this, and don’t forget who you are!”

The Empress stared at him and said, word by word: “Who am I? Your Majesty, tell me—who am I?”

Lord Hongli answered solemnly: “You are my wife. You are the Empress of Great Qing, mother and model to all under Heaven!”

“Yes, I am the Empress of the Great Qing! From the day I was conferred the title, I have served the Empress Dowager with respect, honored the Emperor, treated the consorts kindly, and managed affairs with the utmost care. I feared making even the slightest misstep that might invite the criticism of the world, feared not being virtuous enough and losing the Emperor’s favor! I have never been jealous, never resented, never hated. I helped the Emperor protect his consorts—even treated their children as my own. But what have I received in return? On New Year’s Eve, when the whole family should be reunited, Heaven chose this very day to take Yongcong from me! He was the most precious person in the world, the one I traded my own life to bring into being!” The Empress let out a hollow laugh. Her scarred hand gripped the Emperor’s arm with desperate force as she asked in anguished accusation, “Your Majesty, tell me—Fucha Rongyin has never done a single wicked thing in her life. Why has she come to such an end? Why is Heaven so cruel to me? Why? Why?!”

Hongli clasped her icy fingers in return. A faint glimmer of tears shone in the depths of his eyes as his voice came out hoarse and broken. “Empress, you are tired”

“No, I am not tired.” Suddenly she shoved his hand away. “I want to go find Yongcong. I want to go to him.”

Hongli reached out again to stop her, but the Empress’s gaze turned fierce. She seized his arm and bit down hard—her teeth sinking deep into his flesh. Fresh blood immediately flooded her mouth.

She had always been gentle and virtuous; no one had ever seen her so unhinged. Everyone froze in shock. Only Hongli briefly furrowed his brow before roaring, “The Empress is tired and needs rest! What are you all standing there for? Come and attend to Her Majesty at once!”

Only then did the others snap out of their daze. They rushed forward in a chaotic scramble to help, but under the Empress’s frenzied struggles, every one of them ended up injured—some with faces scratched bloody, others bitten—yet because she was the Empress, none dared to handle her too roughly. In the end, paralyzed by caution, not a single person could get close enough to restrain her.

“I don’t want to be Empress anymore.” She staggered to her feet, her body covered in blood—her own and that of others. Murmuring, she said, “I will just be Fucha Rongyin. I will just be Yongcong’s mother. I want nothing else—nothing at all! Give Yongcong back to me. Give him back!”

Hongli clutched his wounded arm and closed his eyes in pain. Through gritted teeth he ordered, “Bring ropes!”

Ming Yu stared at him in shock. “Your Majesty?”

“I said bring ropes!” Hongli barked.

“Yes—yes!” The eunuchs scrambled away on hands and knees and quickly returned with a length of rope. Hongli took several deep breaths. Amid the stunned cries of those around him, he lunged forward and began binding the Empress with the rope.

Loop after loop wound around her body. She struggled wildly, screaming, “Hongli, let me go! Let me go!”

Hongli had no wish to truss her up like livestock, but he had even less desire to watch her harm herself and others. Holding back the tears in his eyes, he said in a hoarse voice, “Fucha Rongyin, you are my Empress, the wife I married before Heaven and Earth—you have no right to act willfully, and no right to abandon your duty midway! I don’t care whether you are ill or mad—you must remember the responsibility that rests on your shoulders!”

The Empress had always excelled at endurance. In the past, whenever responsibility was invoked, she could bear anything. But she was human. Even the most patient person has a breaking point…

“Yongcong!” Suddenly she collapsed into heartbroken sobs. The most desolate wail in the world tore from her throat, from deep within her chest. “Yongcong!”

The cries echoed through Changchun Palace, unanswered for a long, long time.

The child who used to cover his little ears with his hands when firecrackers sounded, the child who would babble happily in response whenever his mother called him—he would never come back.

When he emerged from the bedchamber, Hongli raised a hand to wipe away his tears. “Ming Yu.”

“This servant is here.” Ming Yu’s eyes were also red-rimmed.

“From this moment on, you are to stay by the Empress’s side at all times. Do you understand?” Hongli instructed.

“Yes.” Ming Yu replied.

Hongli nodded, glanced back toward the bedchamber once more, then let out a heavy sigh and turned to leave. After only a few steps, his foot faltered and he nearly stumbled. Li Yu hurried to support him, but Hongli waved him off. Slowly straightening his spine, he said in a low, heavy voice, “Issue the decree. I will personally preside over the Seventh Prince’s funeral rites.”

Li Yu stared at him in astonishment. “Your Majesty, this is against all protocol!”

Hongli’s face was still streaked with tears. Coldly he replied, “What I say becomes protocol.”

Li Yu hesitated. “Then… shall this servant send someone to inform the Empress Dowager…?”

Hongli waved his hand. “The Empress Dowager loved Yongcong dearly. This news can only come from me.”

Li Yu: “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Let’s go.” Hongli sighed again. In that instant, he seemed to have aged many years. “I want to take one more look at the Seventh Prince.”

But at that moment, a eunuch rushed in to report urgently: “Your Majesty, an express dispatch from eight hundred li away! Governor-General of Sichuan and Shaanxi, Zhang Guangsi, reports an emergency military situation: The chieftain of Greater Jinchuan, Shaluo Ben, has attacked the Mingzheng chieftain and other territories, intending to swallow up all the surrounding tribes!”

Upon hearing this, Hongli remained silent for a long time.

Li Yu scolded in a low voice: “Do you have eyes or not? The Seventh Prince has just passed away—how could His Majesty possibly be in the mood for this? Get out of here!”

Hongli coldly interrupted him: “Instruct Prince He to arrange Yongcong’s funeral affairs. Summon the Grand Council ministers to Yangxin Hall for an audience at once!”

Li Yu froze for a moment, then suddenly understood. “Yes, Your Majesty!”

Hongli cast one final glance toward Changchun Palace. A flash of apology passed through his eyes, but without the slightest hesitation, he turned and left.

There was only a single door separating inside from outside—yet the commotion beyond could not be hidden from those within.

The Empress lay motionless on the bed, ropes binding her body. Her eyes stared fixedly at the ceiling. She had not moved for a long time. If not for the faint rise and fall of her breathing, she might have seemed already dead.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 107: New Year’s Eve

   New Year’s Eve had arrived.

Not only were the common people hanging lanterns and decorating everywhere, but the palace was equally lively.

Lanterns hung from the treetops—some were plump red paper lanterns, others were hexagonal palace lanterns painted with scenes of talented scholars and beautiful ladies. When the firecrackers began to crackle, several palace maids and eunuchs set down the lanterns they were carrying and covered their ears in unison.

Yongcong, held in the Empress’s arms, imitated them, pressing his chubby little hands over his own ears. The Empress looked at him fondly and said to Wei Yingluo beside her, “Yingluo, have the New Year’s eve meal portions and the reward money for the palace staff this year been distributed?”

“Yes. When this servant went to inquire, Noble Consort Xian had already arranged everything early this morning. Everyone in the palace received their share. Because the Imperial Household Department had especially good revenue this year, the amounts are a full ten percent more generous than in previous years. Everyone is delighted.” Yingluo looked at her, feeling very happy herself.

The things she had once worried about had not come to pass. After giving birth, the Empress’s body had not grown weaker as feared. On the contrary, perhaps because of Yongcong’s companionship, her complexion had grown better and better. Lately she had even started to put on a little weight—her cheeks were gradually becoming fuller and rounder.

Compared to the frail, sickly beauty of a Xishi-like Empress, Wei Yingluo thought a slightly plump Empress looked far more beautiful.

All of this was thanks to Yongcong. Wei Yingluo’s gaze softened. She was just about to tease the little boy in the Empress’s arms when a eunuch suddenly approached from outside. After bowing, he said, “Your Majesty, a message has come from the Wei family. Yingluo’s father has suffered a serious injury from a fall from his horse. They beg Your Majesty’s grace to permit her to return home to visit him.”

Wei Yingluo’s face froze.

The Empress nodded. “Yingluo, take my hand token and leave the palace at once.”

“No.” Wei Yingluo’s voice was stiff. “I’m not going.”

The Empress was taken aback. “What are you doing now?”

Wei Yingluo gritted her teeth. “For the sake of a mere minor steward position, he was willing to use his own daughter as a bargaining chip. A father like that—I don’t need him!”

“Don’t speak nonsense! Filial piety is greater than heaven. If you do not go today, people will surely criticize you in the future. How could you stand firm in the palace then?” The Empress shook her head, refusing to let her bear any stain on this matter. She immediately decided for her: “Listen to me. Leave at once.”

Wei Yingluo had no choice but to reluctantly agree with a “Yes.”

Only then did the Empress smile. She spoke gently to her, “Go. I’ll wait for you to come back.”

Wei Yingluo left the palace with many reluctant glances over her shoulder. After delivering the message, the eunuch also left the palace—but instead of returning to the Imperial Household Department, he looked around cautiously for a moment, then hurried off toward Zhongcui Palace.

Compared to the warm and joyful atmosphere of Changchun Palace, the mood in Chengqian Palace felt somewhat tense.

Noble Consort Xian lay prone on the beauty couch, one fragrant shoulder half-exposed. A tattoo artist carefully examined the old scar on her shoulder. After weighing his options for a long time, he finally spoke cautiously, “Your Ladyship, perhaps a lotus flower would be best. The lotus emerges from the mud yet remains unstained; it is washed by clear ripples yet remains free of seduction. It is the purest flower in the world—perfectly suited to Your Ladyship’s character.”

“Emerges from the mud yet remains unstained; washed by clear ripples yet remains free of seduction?” Noble Consort Xian was stunned for a moment, then burst into loud laughter. She laughed so hard that her hairpins became disheveled and even the thin gauze draped over her body slipped off. “Wonderful—truly wonderful!”

The tattoo artist knelt on the ground, not daring to lift his head to look at her. Sweat beaded densely on his forehead, unsure what he had said wrong.

“Get up,” Zhener reminded him from the side. “Her Ladyship has agreed. Just do as you said!”

“Yes.” Only then did the tattoo artist wipe the sweat from his brow and stand up. It took him several minutes to steady his nerves and stop the trembling in his hands before he could firmly pick up the needle again.

The silver needle dipped in dye was gently placed on Noble Consort Xian’s shoulder.

With every prick of the needle, Noble Consort Xian’s body gave a slight shudder. Before long, large beads of sweat broke out all over her, making her look as though she had just been pulled from the water.

To prevent the dye from smearing, Zhener kept wiping the sweat from her body with a handkerchief. With some heartache, she said, “Niangniang, wouldn’t keeping that scar make the Emperor pity and cherish you even more?”

“You don’t understand.” Noble Consort Xian drew in a sharp breath, her gaze cold and fierce. “As time passes, pity and guilt turn into disgust. Even if the Emperor says nothing, I must have enough self-awareness.”

A blue lotus slowly bloomed on Noble Consort Xian’s shoulder. Her expression grew even colder. At that moment, a knock came from outside. Zhener went out for a moment and, upon returning, leaned close to Noble Consort Xian’s ear and whispered, “Niangniang, Wei Yingluo has left the palace.”

“Is that so?” Noble Consort Xian slowly opened her eyes. “Then what are we waiting for? Pass this news to Consort Chun.”

“Yes.” Zhener accepted the order and left the palace.

After she departed, Noble Consort Xian said nothing more. She lay quietly on the couch, arms folded beneath her head, resting her head on them and closing her eyes as if napping, until Zhener returned once again.

By then the lotus was complete. The tattoo artist packed up his tools, bowed, and withdrew. After seeing him off, Zhener finally spoke: “Niangniang, will Noble Consort Chun truly take action?”

“Human greed knows no bounds.” Noble Consort Xian smiled without opening her eyes. “At first she only wanted a child. Once she truly became a mother, she would want more. Yet everything she desires has become nothing more than an illusion with the birth of that legitimate son… Who’s there!”

The curtain suddenly trembled; the person behind it clearly lacked the courage to step forward.

Zhener swiftly walked over, yanked the curtain aside, and revealed the trembling tattoo artist hiding behind it.

The tattoo artist’s face was deathly pale. His lips quivered as he stammered, “Niangniang, this servant… left behind one needle…”

Noble Consort Xian smiled slightly and did not make things difficult for him. She simply told him to take it and leave quickly. The tattoo artist, as though granted amnesty, hurriedly retrieved the needle and fled.

Zhener hesitated, about to speak, when suddenly a miserable scream came from behind them. Turning around, they saw a spray of fresh blood blooming across the curtain.

Without even raising her head, Noble Consort Xian waved her hand lightly. The curtain shook for a moment, and then came the sound of a heavy object being dragged away across the floor. Soon the noise faded and disappeared entirely.

“Old friends who were once as close as sisters, now slaughtering one another for the sake of the heir to the throne.” Noble Consort Xian slowly pulled her clothing back over her shoulder, concealing the lotus, and laughed softly. “I have waited a very long time for this grand drama!”

Crash—

Inside Changchun Palace, the Empress stared at the porcelain bowl that had shattered into several pieces on the floor. Her brows furrowed tightly.

Several palace maids immediately came forward to clean it up. Ming Yu handed her another identical porcelain bowl; inside was half a bowl of green rice congee, its color a vivid jade-green, refreshing and appetizing. The Empress had always loved this dish, and it was the one Wei Yingluo was best at preparing.

Now, without her company, the Empress always felt something was missing. Even this bowl of green rice congee before her had lost its flavor. After merely stirring a few spoonfuls, she set it down and sighed, “My mouth feels bland today. I have no appetite. Take it and divide it among yourselves.”

The dishes on the table had scarcely been touched. The palace maids happily carried them away to share. The Empress then went to the warm pavilion to check on Yongcong. After coaxing him to sleep, the night had grown deep. She yawned, returned to the bedchamber, and asked Ming Yu to help her remove her hairpins and ornaments in preparation for bed.

Halfway through removing the pins, a sudden loud shout came from outside the hall: “Help! The warm pavilion is on fire!”

The warm pavilion—Yongcong’s current residence.

The Empress was so shocked her soul seemed to fly out of her body. She leaped to her feet and cried, “Yongcong!!”

There were no stars or moon in the sky, yet the warm pavilion had become a sea of flames. Blazing light shot upward, turning half the sky red—like a brush dipped in fresh blood, painting a blood moon across the heavens.

“Yongcong! Yongcong” The Empress was being held back by several palace maids; otherwise, she would have already rushed into the sea of flames.

Several palace maids and eunuchs dashed toward the huge “Auspicious Jar” at the palace entrance, intending to fetch water to fight the fire. But when they lifted the lid, the water inside had completely frozen into solid ice—there was no way to draw any out.

“How could this happen?” Ming Yu stared at the block of ice inside, her voice filled with bitterness. Suddenly she turned and shouted to the palace servants: “Call the fire brigade to put out the fire! The rest of you, go to the rear courtyard—get water from the well! Well water!”

One person rushed out the palace gate to report the news, while the others hurried to the back courtyard for water.

After everything had been arranged, Ming Yu looked left and right, and her face suddenly turned deathly pale: “Where is Her Majesty?”

In the chaos of fetching water and fighting the fire, no one had stayed behind to watch over the Empress. Only now did they realize she had vanished without a trace. Ming Yu stared at the wide-open door of the warm chamber that had somehow been pushed ajar at some point. Her heart and guts felt as though they were splitting apart. She let out a desperate cry: “Empress!”

She charged toward the door without regard for anything, but a blast of scorching heat forced her back. Coughing violently, she stood frozen in indecision—until the eunuch who had gone to report returned, leading the fire brigade.

“Quick—save the Empress!” Ming Yu pointed at the door, now glowing red from the flames, and sobbed as she shouted to them: “The Empress is inside!”

Everyone was horrified. The fire brigade immediately began using water buckets to fight the blaze, but the fire was too fierce and could not be extinguished quickly. As it burned on, glazed roof tiles cracked and fell one after another; the warm chamber seemed on the verge of collapse.

“Empress!” With no other choice, Ming Yu gritted her teeth, yanked the cotton robe off a nearby eunuch, soaked it with water, draped it over herself, and prepared to rush into the inferno.

The people beside her hurriedly held her back. Struggling, Ming Yu cried: “Let me go—I have to save Her Majesty… Empress! Look—it’s the Empress!”

Everyone followed her gaze and saw a staggering figure stumbling out from inside the warm chamber. Before anyone could rejoice, Ming Yu was already shouting anxiously: “Quick—call the imperial physicians! Hurry, hurry!”

The Empress was covered in burns, her injuries horrifying to behold. Flames still flickered on her clothing and in her hair. Several eunuchs and maids rushed forward, tearing off their own outer garments to smother the sparks on her body.

Seeing her in such a wretched state, Ming Yu’s tears poured out all at once. She threw herself forward: “Your Majesty, are you all right… is the Seventh Prince all right?”

As she spoke, she lowered her head to look at the swaddled bundle the Empress was clutching tightly to her chest. Suddenly her gaze froze.

“He’s fine,” the Empress rasped, her eyes vacant and unfocused. “He’s fine… he’s fine…”

The swaddling cloth was charred black. Inside, there was utter silence—no crying, no… breathing at all.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 106: Occupying the Word “Legitimate”

   Good news is good news only to some people.

   To others, it is catastrophic misfortune.

   Having finally coaxed Yongrong to sleep, Noble Consort Chun said with visible weariness: “Is His Majesty staying in Changchun Palace again tonight?”

Yuhu: “Yes.”

Her finger gently brushed across Yongrong’s cheek, wiping away the lingering tear bead.

“Yongrong cried for his Ama again today.” Noble Consort Chun placed her finger to her lips and lightly licked the bitter tear. “…Help me change. I am going to Changchun Palace.”

At the entrance to Changchun Palace.

The farther she walked inside, the clearer the sounds of laughter and joy became.

One man, one woman, one child.

A perfect family of three.

Noble Consort Chun’s footsteps halted at the threshold. It took her a long while before she finally stepped over it.

Then she saw the scene she least wanted to see.

The Empress sat in a chair, holding a tiny garment in her hands. Every so often she stitched a needle, then looked up with a smile at the large and small figures opposite her. Lord Hongli no longer looked the least bit like an emperor—he was completely like a foolish, doting father, lifting the swaddled infant high and then lowering him again, making the baby giggle with delight.

The family of three was filled with warmth and harmony, making Noble Consort Chun feel like an outsider.

Forcing herself to rally, Noble Consort Chun stepped forward with a smile: “Greetings, Your Majesty, Empress… Oh, this must be the Seventh Prince. Look at him—such a full forehead and square jaw. What a naturally noble and prosperous face!”

A newborn child whose features had not yet fully developed—how could anyone speak of a full forehead or square jaw? Yet Lord Hongli believed it. Not only did he believe it, he even seemed a little dissatisfied and said: “This child resembles me greatly in appearance. With such features, how could it be merely ‘naturally prosperous’? His future blessings will be limitless!”

Noble Consort Chun’s expression stiffened. Seeing that all his attention was focused on the child, with no trace of herself in his eyes—nor any concern for Yongrong, who had been crying and waiting for him—her heart filled with a tangle of emotions, the taste indescribable.

After lingering a while longer, she truly could not stay any longer and had no choice but to rise and take her leave.

Upon returning to Zhongcui Palace, she discovered an unexpected guest had already arrived ahead of her and was waiting inside the palace.

“You’re back.” Noble Consort Xian was holding a tangram puzzle, amusing little Yongrong on her lap. With a smile, she asked, “Did you see the Seventh Prince?”

Noble Consort Chun nodded and replied insincerely, “The Seventh Prince is clever and adorable—truly very likable.”

“Yes, indeed.” Noble Consort Xian continued smoothly, whether intentionally or not, “His Majesty values the Seventh Prince greatly. He just issued instructions that this year’s New Year’s reunion banquet will be held at Qianqing Palace, and it must end early so the Seventh Prince won’t catch a chill from the wind.”

“Ah… ah…” Seeing his mother arrive, Yongrong—still in Noble Consort Xian’s arms—stretched out his two chubby little hands toward Consort Chun.

Noble Consort Chun’s heart softened at the sight of him. She stepped forward and lifted him into her embrace. At that moment, Noble Consort Xian’s sigh sounded beside her ear: “Though there are many princes in the palace, I have never seen His Majesty treasure any prince as dearly as this one.”

“Yongcong is the legitimate son of the principal wife; naturally he receives more favor than others,” Noble Consort Chun forced herself to reply.

“Exactly—legitimate son of the principal wife, different from the rest.” Noble Consort Xian smiled. “Do you know? On the day he was born, sweet rain fell from the heavens, ending the severe drought in Gansu. Not only His Majesty, but even the Empress Dowager said this child is blessed and protected by Heaven, destined for great fortune! Everyone is saying that once the Seventh Prince grows up, he will be the best candidate to inherit the throne.”

“Inherit the throne?” Noble Consort Chun could not hide her shock. “But didn’t the late Emperor issue a clear decree long ago that the succession would be kept secret?”

“That was merely the surface rule,” Noble Consort Xian said with a soft laugh. “Have you forgotten? In the past, though the late Emperor never said it openly, every prince of the imperial clan, every minister at court—everyone knew His Majesty was the future heir. Now that His Majesty dotes on the Seventh Prince so extraordinarily, the imperial clan and the court officials naturally understand his intention. Even the vassal kings and foreign envoys have sent congratulations and gifts one after another.”

Noble Consort Chun held her beloved son tightly in her arms. After a long silence, she slowly said, “In the history of the Great Qing, there has never been a precedent of a legitimate son of the principal wife succeeding to the throne…”

“Precisely!” Yuhu chimed in from the side. “The Seventh Prince hasn’t even grown up yet—who knows what kind of character he’ll have? How can he possibly inherit the throne!”

Her words were far too blunt. Noble Consort Chun frowned. “Yuhu! Don’t speak nonsense!”

Though she scolded her aloud, her eyes flicked toward Noble Consort Xian, as if waiting for her to nod in agreement.

But Noble Consort Xian only shook her head with a bitter smile. “To have borne the legitimate son is to have won the hearts of the entire realm!”

To have borne the legitimate son is to have won the hearts of the entire realm.

Even after Noble Consort Xian had left, those words continued to ring like a bell in Noble Consort Chun’s heart, striking her again and again. Over time, her mind grew increasingly restless and troubled. Suddenly, Noble Consort Xian—no, wait, it was Noble Consort Chun herself now—waved her hand abruptly. Her sleeve swept across the table, and the half-completed tangram pattern scattered in all directions as though caught in a gust of wind.

Yongrong had spent great effort piecing it together. Seeing this, he froze for a moment. Then his little face crumpled, and he burst into loud wails.

“Don’t cry, Sixth Prince. This servant will rearrange it for you right away.” Yuhu hurriedly knelt on the floor and began picking up the scattered tangram pieces one by one.

Yongrong’s cries jolted Noble Consort Chun awake. She stared blankly for a long moment before suddenly pulling Yongrong tightly into her arms, her voice trembling with tears. “Yongrong, it’s all my fault. I lost my temper and frightened you…”

Though still very young, Yongrong was an exceptionally considerate child. Seeing his mother cry, he sniffled, wrapped his little arms around her head, and cried along with her.

The mother and son cried together for a good while before finally stopping. Noble Consort Chun took the warm towel from Yuhu’s hand and gently wiped Yongrong’s tear-streaked face. Softly, she asked, “Yuhu, tell me… in what way is Yongrong inferior to the Seventh Prince?”

“Our Sixth Prince is not the slightest bit inferior to the Seventh Prince,” Yuhu replied loyally on behalf of her young master. “Not only is he not inferior—he surpasses him in every way.”

One’s own child is always perfect in every respect. Noble Consort Chun smiled. “You’re right. Yongrong is clever, thoughtful… among all the princes in the palace, none is more outstanding than he. The only difference, the only difference is…”

Her voice melted away like the first snow, vanishing into the air.

   At the same moment, outside Zhongcui Palace.

   The forest flowers are in full bloom—why the hurry?

   Noble Consort Xian strolled leisurely through the garden, passing beneath one plum tree after another. Suddenly, the hand holding her beauty fan lifted upward, pressing the fan down against a branch.

   On the branch, one large and one small: a big crimson plum blossom nestled right beside a tiny bud, intimately close like a mother and child.

   “Zhener,” Noble Consort Xian said with a smile, “do you know? Though children under heaven may differ, the mothers of the world are all cast from the same mold… They all want to hold the very best things in the world and place them before their own child.”

She withdrew the fan and continued forward with a smile.

Behind her, both the large crimson plum and the small bud fell from the branch, landing in the muddy footprint she had left on the ground.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 105: Happy News

   The next day, Ming Yu was ordered to clean the eastern side hall.

The moment she stepped inside, she saw Hupo hurrying out carrying an armful of bedding, her eyes darting away, her expression panicked.

“What are you doing?” Ming Yu called out to stop her, suspicious. “Sneaking around like a thief?”

Hupo hugged the bedding even tighter, lowered her head, and said, “His Majesty was drunk last night and vomited everywhere. Chief Steward Li ordered this servant to clean it up quickly!”

“Is that so?” Ming Yu’s gaze swept over the bundle in Hupo’s arms. Suddenly her brows furrowed. A corner of bright red peeked out from the bedding—like a woman’s embroidered undergarment. The silk fabric showed, at the edge, the faint outline of a lotus petal.

A fleeting glimpse—she thought it was her own eyes playing tricks. Before Ming Yu could get a clear look, a voice suddenly called out from behind her.

“Ming Yu!” Erqing’s hand landed on her shoulder. Without waiting for a response, she turned Ming Yu around and said with a beaming smile, “Ming Yu, I’m leaving the palace today. I came especially to bid you farewell.”

Ming Yu was stunned. “So suddenly?”

“Fuheng has already returned to the capital. It would be inconvenient for me to remain in the palace any longer.” Erqing sighed. “While I’m gone, I’ll have to rely on you to take care of the Empress.”

Ming Yu pursed her lips. “You don’t need to tell me—I’ll take good care of Her Majesty anyway.”

Erqing smiled without saying more. After chatting idly with her for a few moments, she turned and left.

Once she was gone, Ming Yu turned back around—but where Amber had been standing moments ago, there was now no trace of her.

Heavy-hearted, Ming Yu made her way to the tea room. This matter wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t trivial either. If she had to find someone to discuss it with, after thinking it over, only one person was truly reliable.

“Yingluo!”

The flames licked at the medicine pot. Wei Yingluo sat to one side fanning it. The air was thick with the strong smell of herbs. Without turning her head, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Ming Yu hesitated for a long time before finally stammering, “Last night… His Majesty rested in the eastern side hall. It seems he favored a palace maid.”

The fanning motion stopped abruptly.

The Empress had only just given birth, and he was already favoring a maid from Changchun Palace? Couldn’t he have chosen a different time, a different place?

Just when she had begun to think slightly better of Hongli, her opinion sank even lower again. Wei Yingluo gripped the fan handle tightly, her face expressionless as she said, “This is Changchun Palace. If His Majesty took a liking to a palace maid, why didn’t he inform Her Majesty? Even if what you said is true, if that maid was favored, shouldn’t she have come today to request a title or reward?”

Ming Yu was taken aback, then let out a small laugh. “You’re right… but… never mind. Maybe I really was seeing things!”

The two of them exchanged a knowing look and tacitly decided to keep the matter hidden.

The Empress had already suffered enough. There was no need to add to her troubles at a time like this. As for this disloyal, backstabbing palace maid… if Ming Yu had been mistaken, that would be best. If not, the two of them would drag her out and teach her what she could and could not do.

The atmosphere grew somewhat heavy. After a moment, Wei Yingluo spoke up. “By the way, I just heard from Her Majesty that His Majesty has already given the Seventh Prince a name.”

“Oh?” Ming Yu’s attention was immediately diverted. “What name?”

“Yongcong.”

Yongcong… Yongcong… Ming Yu repeated the name to herself over and over. Suddenly she jumped up in excitement. “Aiya! Do you know what ‘cong’ means?”

Of course Wei Yingluo knew, but she still smiled and shook her head, giving her friend the chance to explain.

“‘Cong’ refers to the ritual vessel used in ancestral temples and the imperial court!” Ming Yu gestured animatedly. “You can see that His Majesty intends for the Seventh Prince to inherit—”

“Calamity comes from the mouth.” Wei Yingluo raised her hand, placing the palm-leaf fan right in front of Ming Yu’s big mouth.

Ming Yu snatched the fan from her hand. While fanning her, she stubbornly continued, “It’s true! The ‘rong’ in the Sixth Prince’s name refers to the sound of jade pendants clinking together. But our Seventh Prince is named after a sacred vessel of the ancestral temple—how can you not see which one carries more weight? It’s obvious!”

Yingluo gave her a glare. “Yes, yes, I’m busy brewing medicine here. Go show off somewhere else!”

Ming Yu had wanted to share her joy with her, but seeing her so uncooperative, she couldn’t help feeling a little angry. Pouting, she said, “Why aren’t you happy at all?”

“What’s there to be happy about?” Wei Yingluo said listlessly. “Her Majesty nearly died from hemorrhaging to give birth to the Seventh Prince. Even the imperial physicians said it would shorten her lifespan…”

Ming Yu looked at her strangely. “But for any consort or concubine, having children is the only way to stand firm! Not just in the harem—even ordinary women in the world are the same!”

“If one loses their life, what use is there in having boundless power and wealth?” Wei Yingluo said gravely.

“B-but… Her Majesty doesn’t care about power or status. She was already completely satisfied the moment she had the Seventh Prince!” Though Ming Yu was still arguing, her momentum had weakened considerably.

“Women are human beings too. No matter the circumstances, one’s own life is always the most important.” Wei Yingluo smiled. “Niangniang is blessed with great fortune and a strong fate—she pulled through. But if she hadn’t, leaving behind a child without a mother, could that child possibly live well in the Forbidden City? Those who throw away their lives for the sake of giving birth are fools.”

The joyful news was not limited to Changchun Palace.

   Several months later, at the Fucha residence.

   “Mother.” Fuheng stepped into the main hall. “What is it? Why did you urgently summon me back?”

Because the Empress had been bedridden with prolonged illness, Lady Fucha had cried until she went blind in one eye. Though she applied medicine daily, she could still only vaguely make out blurry silhouettes. She reached out toward the shadow opposite her: “Fuheng, my son, such tremendous good news—you’ll surely be overjoyed when you hear it.”

Fuheng quickly stepped forward and took her hand. “What good news?”

There had been far more bad news than good lately; it had been a long time since Lady Fucha had smiled so happily. “Your wife is finally with child!”

All the color drained from Fuheng’s face in an instant.

Lady Fucha’s eyesight was poor and she did not notice his abnormality. Still holding his hand, she continued warmly: “With the Empress now recovered and the Seventh Prince deeply favored by His Majesty, your mother no longer worries about anything else—only about you. Now I can finally set my heart at ease. Erqing truly is our family’s great blessing! You must take good care of her and never neglect her!”

“…Yes.” Fuheng gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with deep loathing and disgust.

After leaving the main hall, Fuheng did not pause for a moment. He rushed straight into Erqing’s bedroom. The sunlight was just right; Erqing leaned against the carved window, embroidering. Her needle flew deftly, and a pair of twin lotus blossoms was gradually taking shape on the embroidery frame. Suddenly a hand reached from the side, seized the hand holding the needle, and yanked her up from the chair.

What met her eyes was Fuheng’s face, contorted with uncontrollable fury. He said in a low, heavy voice: “Whose child is this?”

Erqing began to laugh, her tone as coy and playful as that of newlyweds teasing each other: “Guess.”

Fuheng had no patience for her games. He gripped her wrist so tightly it creaked. “I’m asking you one more time. Whose child is this?”

Her wrist throbbed with sharp pain, yet Erqing only laughed more merrily. “Everyone says Fucha Fuheng is brilliant beyond compare, ruthless in his methods, and that despite his young age he has already entered the Grand Council and become one of the Emperor’s most trusted ministers, with limitless prospects ahead. I say that’s all nonsense—if even his own wife is pregnant and he doesn’t know by whom, what kind of genius is that!”

“You—!” Fuheng trembled with rage.

Erqing flung his hand away with complete indifference. “You can dote on a maidservant—can’t I find comfort elsewhere?”

She suddenly fell silent.

There was a sharp metallic clang. Fuheng drew the long sword from the wall. The swords in his room were not mere decorations; even if they had been, in the hands of a warrior like him they were deadly weapons in every sense.

Erqing watched him warily. “What are you going to do?”

“The Fucha family has maintained a spotless reputation for a hundred years. My mother has placed all her hopes in this—none of it can be destroyed because of you.” Fuheng’s eyes were bloodshot. He tossed the long sword at her feet. “I do not kill women. Do it yourself.”

The sword clattered to the floor with a clear, ringing sound.

Erqing glanced at the sword on the ground. The cinnabar-red lips painted on her mouth curved upward.

“So even the most tolerant man cannot tolerate his wife straying outside the wall! Unfortunately for you, you cannot kill me, and I certainly will not kill myself—because…” Her embroidered shoe stepped onto the blade of the sword. Erqing advanced toward Fuheng step by step, her eyes brimming with mockery and triumph. “This child bears the surname Aisin Gioro!”

Fuheng froze on the spot.

Erqing refused to let him off. She continued: “Listen carefully. What I carry is dragon seed—the bloodline of the Son of Heaven. If you dare lay a single finger on me, calamity will descend upon you in an instant!”

“No!” Fuheng shook his head, his face ashen. “The Emperor is not the kind of man who would violate a minister’s wife!”

“The Emperor would not—but I would!” Erqing shattered his last hope with cruel laughter. “To find the right opportunity, I went to great lengths!”

Finally, Fuheng could bear it no longer. He seized her by the throat, gnashing his teeth as he snarled: “Why did you scheme against the Emperor? Why would you do this to the Fucha family!”

“Ahem!” Erqing coughed once, then looked straight at him without the slightest fear. She burst into loud laughter. “Lord Fucha Fuheng, in everyone’s eyes you are the elegant and dashing young gentleman, the ideal husband every woman in the world dreams of—even the remarkable Wei Yingluo was utterly bewitched by you! But I want you to endure humiliation, to suffer torment. Every time you kneel before the throne, you will remember this. Every time you receive a promotion, you will have to wonder whether you traded your wife for that official hat and peacock feather! You hate me, yet you cannot kill me. You loathe this child, yet you must raise him for the rest of your life! Hahahaha! How funny—how utterly hilarious! I really thought about this plan for a very long time. Isn’t it especially amusing?”

Watching Erqing laugh like a madwoman, Lord Fuheng slowly loosened his grip on her. He took a step back, putting distance between them, and said with eyes full of revulsion: “You are not only vicious—you are insane!”

The word “vicious” ignited the bitterness and rage buried deep in Erqing’s heart, setting her insides ablaze. Like someone truly driven mad, she lunged at him: “Yes, I am insane—driven insane by you and Wei Yingluo together! Lord Fucha Fuheng, this is the price you must pay for humiliating me. For the rest of your life, you will never be able to escape me—Xitara Erqing!”

Lord Fuheng shoved her away and stared at her for a long time with an utterly unfamiliar gaze—as though he were seeing her for the first time, or as though he had never truly known her at all.

“Lord Fuheng, where are you going?” Erqing called after him once she had steadied herself.

The door creaked open. Lord Fuheng ignored her, rushing out without looking back.

“Why are you running away? Are you afraid? Come back! Come back and look at me—look at your child! Hahahahaha!!” Behind him, Erqing laughed until she was gasping for breath, and finally broke into sobs.

After crying for a while, she raised a hand to wipe away her tears. Since no one cared for her, no one loved her, no one would wipe her tears for her—why should she keep crying?

“I lived six years in the palace bowing and scraping, enduring for six years, hoping for six years—hoping that in the end I would have a gentle and virtuous husband and a bright future ahead. Instead, I ended up with a cold bed and a solitary shadow. Why should I be the only one to bear such pain?” Erqing stared in the direction Lord Fuheng had gone. The cold tears dried on her face as she slowly smiled. “Lord Fucha Fuheng, your suffering has only just begun.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 104: Childbirth

   The night was already deep, yet Changchun Palace was brightly lit, with figures hurrying back and forth without cease.

Wei Yingluo, Erqing, Ming Yu, and all the large and small palace maids and eunuchs of Changchun Palace were rushing about in haste. Some carried basins of water in and out of the bedchamber, some replaced old candles with fresh ones, some stood guard at the palace gate—yet their heads kept turning back to glance inside. Anxiety was written plainly on every face.

“Ah—” The Empress’s agonized scream came from within the room.

Lord Hongli paced back and forth outside the door, his footsteps growing faster and more urgent.

Lord Li Yu tried to reassure him: “Your Majesty, please rest assured. The entire Imperial Medical Bureau is standing by. The Empress will surely give birth safely.”

Lord Hongli remained silent.

No sooner had the words been spoken than another sharp, drawn-out scream erupted from inside, ringing long before fading into breathless silence.

Lord Hongli froze mid-step and barked urgently: “Quick—go see what’s happening!”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lord Li Yu hurriedly rushed out.

Inside the sleeping chamber, the scene was chaotic. A basin stood at the edge of the bed, brimming with bloody water.

The Empress lay motionless on the bed, her face as pale as paper, as though every drop of blood had been drained from her body. Apart from her hair, she was utterly colorless—pale from head to toe.

The midwife, sweat beading on her forehead, said anxiously: “The baby is coming feet-first. This is a breech birth—a dangerous one!”

Wei Yingluo’s lips trembled; her face was as ashen as the Empress’s on the bed.

It took her a long moment before she managed to force out a shaky sentence: “If you cannot save the Empress, none of you will escape punishment! If it really comes to that, summon the imperial physicians!”

The midwife replied: “In this situation, even the imperial physicians cannot save her! The only way is to reach inside the birth canal, touch the young prince’s little feet, and pray to heaven that the child is clever enough to turn his head upward on his own. Only then is there a slim chance!”

The mere description of the method sounded like nine chances of death and one of survival. Wei Yingluo felt waves of dizziness; her legs buckled, and she nearly lost her footing.

“Yingluo, are you all right?” the midwife asked with concern.

“I’m fine!” Wei Yingluo bit the tip of her tongue hard. “What do I need to do?”

“Just hold the Empress’s upper body steady.” The midwife hesitated for a moment. “If you can’t bear it, shall we get someone else?”

“No.” Wei Yingluo stepped forward quickly, trembling yet resolute, and wrapped her arms around the Empress. “At a time like this, I absolutely cannot leave Her Majesty…”

The Empress forced her eyes open and looked at her.

“Your Majesty,” Wei Yingluo said softly, encouraging her, “you can do this. Yingluo is right here with you…”

The Empress was already too weak to speak, but she managed a faint, difficult nod toward her.

Half an hour later, a loud, clear infant’s cry rang out—like the rising sun at dawn, like sweet dew falling from the heavens. Inside and outside Changchun Palace, everyone turned toward the source of the cry. Lord Hongli almost instantly pushed the door open and rushed to the bedside.

Inside the room, the baby was crying—and so was Wei Yingluo.

“Why are you crying like a child?” the Empress teased weakly, lifting a hand to gently wipe the tears from the corner of Yingluo’s eyes. Her gaze was full of tenderness and pity.

“Everyone else is laughing—why are you the only one crying?” Lord Hongli strode over. Perhaps because his mood had lifted dramatically, he joined in teasing her as well.

“I…” Wei Yingluo choked, unable to speak through her sobs.

“Don’t tease her,” the Empress said gently, taking Wei Yingluo’s hand in hers. “Everyone is rejoicing over the birth of the Seventh Prince—only she has stayed by my side the entire time, shedding tears for my sake.”

A daughter of gold is easy to find; a true confidante is rare. With one sentence the Empress laid bare Yingluo’s deepest feelings, causing her tears to flow even more fiercely. She pressed the Empress’s hand to her own cheek and sobbed: “Your Majesty, just now Yingluo was truly terrified. I lost my mother, I lost my sister—I didn’t want to be left alone again. Thank you… thank you for still being alive…”

She had always been stubborn, hard as an unbreakable stone, and rarely showed such fragile, pitiable vulnerability. Not only did the Empress look at her with overflowing affection, even Lord Hongli’s gaze toward her softened noticeably.

After a long while, Wei Yingluo finally remembered that Lord Hongli was still in the room. Though reluctant to leave, she knew this was the moment to give the two of them some private time together. So she rose and said: “Your Majesty, you’ve been through exhaustion all night. This servant will go prepare some nourishing tonic for you.”

She deliberately left them a moment alone. The Empress had endured so much suffering and pain for this child—she wanted Lord Hongli to know it, to see it, and to keep it forever in his heart.

She closed the door behind her with a firm push, and Wei Yingluo let out a long breath. She made a quick trip to the small kitchen. The kitchen had already prepared the nourishing supplements. Since the Empress could not tolerate greasy food during her pregnancy, all the dishes were light in flavor: silverfish congee, stir-fried greens, and a bowl of specially prepared tonic soup known as postpartum recovery broth.

She arranged these items on a wooden tray and returned to the bedchamber.

From the corner of his eye, Hongli caught sight of her. He patted the Empress’s hand gently. “That’s enough for today. You must be tired. Have something to eat and rest early.”

After a pause, he turned to Li Yu. “I will be staying overnight at Changchun Palace tonight.”

The Empress’s face was pale, yet her eyes shone with exceptional brightness. A swaddled infant lay beside her; her gaze never left the child for a single moment. Hearing Hongli’s words, she finally looked up and smiled. “The night wind is chilly. If Your Majesty returns to Yangxin Hall now, you risk catching a cold after drinking… Erqing, please prepare for His Majesty to rest in the eastern side hall.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Erqing replied.

She lowered her head and walked respectfully toward the door. But when she suddenly turned to glance back at the people inside the room, the look in her eyes was far from proper.

Night, eastern side hall.

Li Yu had just returned from the latrine. Being a eunuch, this always took extra time and effort to avoid soiling himself. As he came back, he suddenly heard a woman’s startled cry from inside the eastern side hall—soft, charming and bone-melting, full of fawning compliance: “Your Majesty!”

Frowning, Li Yu pulled over the young eunuch standing guard at the door and asked, “Who just went in?”

“A palace maid from Changchun Palace,” the young eunuch whispered. “She came to deliver a sobering soup.”

As he spoke, the sound of tearing silk came from inside the room. The young eunuch, who seemed unaccustomed to such scenes, started to open the door to look, but Li Yu slapped his hand away.

“What are you looking at?” Li Yu snapped irritably. “Whoever His Majesty chooses to favor, it is that woman’s good fortune. See less, ask less—lest you lose your head!”

The young eunuch shrank back and dared not speak again.

With a cold snort, Li Yu tucked his fly-whisk under his arm, standing guard at the door while thinking to himself: The atmosphere in Changchun Palace really needs to be rectified. The Empress has only just given birth to the legitimate heir, and already some palace woman can’t wait to climb into His Majesty’s bed. Is she bold, or simply cunning…?

One night of passion beneath the lotus-embroidered curtains. When the sky was just beginning to lighten, the door creaked open. A woman with a face full of sorrow emerged.

Li Yu turned to look—and the moment he recognized her, he shuddered violently.

The woman was beautiful, her figure graceful… but that wasn’t the point. The point was—she was Erqing! The wife of Fucha Fuheng!

Li Yu felt his hands and feet turn ice-cold. Only after she had walked far away did he drag his leaden feet into the eastern side hall. One glance was enough for him to know: It’s over.

The bed was in utter disarray. The air still carried the lingering, seductive scent of lovemaking. Hongli, wearing only his inner robe, sat on the couch, his face dark and gloomy as he stared at him.

“Your Majesty…” Li Yu’s knees buckled; he was about to kneel when a boot came flying at his face.

“Get out!” Hongli roared.

As if sensing something, Erqing, who was walking back toward the palace, suddenly stopped in her tracks. She looked back once. There was not the slightest trace of guilt on her face—only a light, carefree smile, utterly delighted.

“Xitara Erqing, in my heart, you will never compare to Yingluo! Your cruelty and viciousness disgust me beyond words!” Erqing murmured, repeating the words Fuheng had once said to her. Then she let out a soft, poisonous chuckle, her laughter dripping with venom, unspeakably cruel and malicious. “Fuheng, this is all because you forced me. You made me despair and heartbroken—so now I will make you despair and heartbroken too.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 103: Death Anniversary

   Zhongcui Palace.

   Noble Consort Chun carried Yongrong toward Hongli. The child in the swaddling clothes stretched out his chubby little fingers, babbling and reaching to be held.

“Yongrong has become very attached to Your Majesty lately,” Noble Consort Chun said with a gentle smile. “Every day when he opens his eyes, he looks everywhere for you.”

Hongli did not pick Yongrong up. He merely reached out and lightly flicked the boy’s nose. For some reason, his expression suddenly turned gloomy and dejected.

Noticing that Hongli seemed distracted, Noble Consort Chun signaled the wet nurse to take the child away. She probed carefully, “Your Majesty, yesterday I composed a new piece. Would you like to hear it…?”

Hongli agreed half-heartedly. The two of them played the qin together for a while, then drank several pots of wine. The flush of alcohol reddened Noble Consort Chun’s cheeks. She leaned her soft, boneless body against Hongli’s chest, her voice more intoxicating than the wine itself: “Your Majesty…”

The next moment, she was gently pushed away. Hongli said in a low voice, “…I suddenly remembered there is something I must attend to. You should rest first.”

Watching his staggering departing figure, Yuhu asked in surprise, “Your Ladyship, what’s wrong with His Majesty today? He looks so preoccupied and heavy-hearted.”

Noble Consort Chun seemed lost in thought. Suddenly she asked, “What day is it today?”

Changchun Palace.

   The Empress was about to retire for the night. In front of the rhombic flower mirror, Wei Yingluo was carefully removing the hairpins and ornaments from her head one by one. Halfway through, a voice suddenly announced from outside:

“His Majesty has arrived!”

The bedroom doors opened, and a strong scent of wine rushed in from outside.

The Empress didn’t even have time to finish fixing her hair. She rose quickly to greet him, supporting his arm as she said, “Your Majesty… why have you come?”

Hongli appeared quite drunk. He stared dazedly at the Empress for a long moment, then suddenly grasped her hand. “Empress, today is Yonglian’s death anniversary.”

The Empress froze.

“When I gave him the name Yonglian back then, it carried the meaning of inheriting the rivers and mountains.” Hongli murmured on and on. “And he did not disappoint those expectations. He was born intelligent, studied diligently without tiring. When he was only eight years old, I took him to the Mulan hunting grounds. He shot down an eagle in the sky and personally brought it to offer to me…”

He spoke of past events one by one, trivial like an tireless old nanny who never grows weary of repeating herself. As the Empress listened, her eyes gradually became misty with tears. She knew that Hongli was truly drunk; if he were sober, he would never allow himself to show such a soft and vulnerable side.

“Emperor.” She pulled him to sit at the edge of the bed, raised her hand to caress his cheek, and said tenderly, “After Yonglian died, you suspended court for five days to mourn him. That alone already makes you a rare and compassionate father in all the world…”

“Haha…” Upon hearing this, Hongli burst into loud laughter. But as he laughed, hot tears welled up in his eyes. “Is there any father in the world whose child dies young and yet sheds not a single tear?”

The Empress said with heartache, “The Emperor sheds tears only in three situations: for the painful loss of his parents, for a great calamity sent from Heaven, or for the fall of the nation and ruin of the family. Your Majesty, it is not that you do not wish to cry—you simply cannot cry…”

The tears in Hongli’s eyes were on the verge of falling, but upon hearing her words, he forcibly held them back and murmured, “Yes… I am the Son of Heaven. All the subjects of the realm are my children—not just Yonglian alone! So even if you resent me for being heartless, even if you hate me for being cold, I still cannot cry…”

The Empress sighed softly and reached out to draw him into her embrace.

For a moment, Changchun Palace fell into complete silence. Wei Yingluo stood to one side watching them, her expression exceedingly complex. She had always harbored deep prejudices against Hongli, feeling that he was flawed in every way—except for his noble birth, there was not a single thing about him worthy of the Empress.

But now, seeing this… he too had his own bitter difficulties.

The position of emperor truly was not an easy one to sit in. Even crying was not permitted. Only by borrowing the cover of drunkenness could he let a single tear fall—and it had to fall upon the shoulder of someone who could keep her mouth shut like a sealed bottle, so that no one else would see.

“Empress…” Hongli buried his face in the Empress’s shoulder and said softly, “The imperial physicians told me that this pregnancy of yours will surely be a prince.”

The Empress: “Mm.”

“I know.” Hongli continued, “It must be Yonglian coming back to us.”

The Empress was momentarily stunned. Unable to bear shattering his illusion, she simply gave another soft “Mm.”

“Yonglian was clever and handsome, one in a million. He was my most beloved son. When he left, I was heartbroken—more heartbroken with each passing day.” Hongli murmured, “Now that he is coming back, I finally don’t have to grieve anymore… Empress, are you happy? He is about to return to our side.”

Tears rolled in the Empress’s eyes. How could this not also be her own dream? Night after night she would wake up crying, always reaching out along the edge of the bed, only to touch cold, empty air—never the soft cheek of that child.

But to comfort Hongli, to comfort this man who shared the same sorrow as she did, the Empress once again said: “Mm.”

Receiving her reply, Hongli let out a childish giggle. He childishly grasped the Empress’s hand, tears glistening in his eyes like a thin ray of dawn light at the edge of the horizon: “Empress, help me ask him—back then I was so busy with state affairs that I didn’t spend a single day with him, didn’t even once hold him in my arms. Does he blame me? Is he still willing—to be my son?”

The Empress took his hand and slowly placed it on her gently rounded belly.

“Child,” she lowered her head and asked, “your Imperial Father was occupied with government affairs and never spent a single day with you, never even held you in his arms. Do you blame him? Are you still willing—to be his son?”

Their ten fingers interlocked. Beneath her palm, she felt the movement in her womb—rising and falling, the heartbeat of a new life.

The Empress smiled and lifted her head. She opened her mouth, intending to tell a few comforting lies to cheer him up, to keep him from wearing that sorrowful expression any longer.

But the words reached her lips—and suddenly stopped.

“…Empress?” Hongli looked at her. The drunken haze was gradually clearing from his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

The Empress’s face visibly grew paler and paler moment by moment. Sweat rolled from her temples. She breathed heavily for a few moments, then suddenly doubled over, clutching her belly. Her voice could no longer suppress the pain: “It hurts… my belly hurts so much…”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 102: Pregnancy

   “Lord Yonglian! Lord Yonglian!”

Wei Yingluo had already been dozing off when she was jolted awake by the Empress’s anguished cry. Together with the group of night-watch eunuchs, she rushed into the sleeping chamber.

The Empress seemed to be trapped in a nightmare. Her hands clawed wildly at the air, their shadows cast on the snow-white bed curtains like tree branches thrashing madly in a storm.

“Empress! Empress!” Lord Hongli had stayed in Changchun Palace that night. When Yingluo arrived, he was already holding the Empress in his arms, calling to her urgently. “Wake up, wake up!”

The Empress slowly opened her tear-filled eyes. After sobbing for a moment, she said in a trembling voice: “I dreamed of Yonglian. He was crying… he kept crying…”

Lord Hongli looked at her with pity. “Empress, it was only a nightmare. Listen—where in Changchun Palace is there any sound of crying?”

The Empress dazedly looked around. When she heard crying, she felt heartbroken. When she heard nothing, she felt even more heartbroken.

Unable to bear seeing her like this, Lord Hongli said: “Another day I’ll bring Yongrong here for you to see. The child somewhat resembles Yonglian. Let him keep you company for a while.”

The Empress tightly embraced him, yet the bitterness in her heart only deepened.

How could someone else’s child serve as a substitute for her own? If he did not resemble Yonglian at all, it might be bearable—but if he truly bore even a slight resemblance to Yonglian, how could the Empress bear to part with him again? And if she insisted on keeping him in the palace, how could she face the child’s own birth mother?

“No need. It’s enough to have you by my side.” The Empress gently declined. Then, clutching at Lord Hongli like someone grasping at straws in the water, she said in a pitiful yet devoted tone: “Lately I keep dreaming of Yonglian, but when I wake, I cannot see him… This kind of pain—only you understand it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Lord Hongli stroked her back gently, as though soothing a child. “I understand. I’m here with you. Don’t let your thoughts run wild. Everything will be all right… everything will be all right…”

The dew turned white with the coming dawn. The two of them held each other close until daybreak.

This nightmare finally made the Empress resolve herself.

The next day, she summoned Erqing alone: “Where is that fertility prescription?”

Joy surged in Erqing’s heart, though she kept her face composed. Respectfully, she presented the brocade box containing the formula. Only after the Empress had accepted it did she deliberately ask: “Do we truly not need to inform Yingluo?”

The hand the Empress had placed on the box stiffened. She sighed. “Never mind. Yingluo worries too much about me. For now, let us not tell her.”

Days can feel short or long, depending entirely on whether there’s work to be done.

For Wei Yingluo, time passed quickly—sometimes accompanying the Empress during her rehabilitation, sometimes maintaining and polishing her crutches, sometimes handling the large and small affairs of Changchun Palace. In the blink of an eye, three months had gone by.

On this day, Imperial Physician Zhang came as usual to take the Empress’s peace pulse.

He had expected it to be the same routine formality as always, but unexpectedly, his expression grew more and more grave. After one examination wasn’t enough, he checked again and again.

Wei Yingluo’s heart immediately rose in alarm. “Physician Zhang, you’ve been examining for half an hour already. Is there something wrong with Her Majesty’s health?”

Physician Zhang kept his fingers on the Empress’s pulse and asked in return, “Has Her Majesty’s appetite been rather poor lately?”

“…Her Majesty has been somewhat disinterested in food recently, and her body has grown noticeably thinner.” Wei Yingluo glanced at the Empress’s slightly gaunt profile, feeling even more uneasy. When she turned back, she saw Physician Zhang let out a long breath of relief. He lifted the hem of his robe, knelt down, and said, “Empress, congratulations—great joy!”

Before Wei Yingluo could even speak, Erqing hurriedly asked, “What joy is this?”

Physician Zhang’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Her Majesty is showing a happy pulse—of course it is great joy!”

A look of delight appeared on the Empress’s somewhat pale face. Subconsciously, she glanced toward Erqing, who smiled and nodded at her.

The interaction between the two could not escape Wei Yingluo’s eyes. She looked from one to the other, and finally her gaze settled on Ming Yu.

Ming Yu lacked the depth of composure the other two possessed. Her eyes immediately darted away, a trace of panic showing.

“What is going on here?” As soon as they left the Empress’s bedchamber, Wei Yingluo grabbed Ming Yu by the arm and demanded, “The conditioning prescription that Ye Tianshi wrote included purple eggplant flower, which has contraceptive properties. He said that only after Her Majesty’s body was fully recovered could the medicine be stopped to prepare for pregnancy. But now Her Majesty is already with child—which means you all stopped the medicine long ago!”

Ming Yu looked troubled. “Yingluo…”

A soft chuckle came from behind. “Wei Yingluo, do the affairs of Changchun Palace really need to be reported to you? Isn’t that a bit too self-important?”

Wei Yingluo spun around sharply. “Erqing… this has something to do with you!”

A hand pushed open the door. Erqing stood in the doorway, making no attempt to hide the smug satisfaction on her face. “You should say that thanks to me, Changchun Palace has received this happy news!”

Wei Yingluo looked at Erqing, then at Ming Yu, and slowly everything became clear to her. Her voice grew cold. “You all knew, and you kept it from me alone?”

Ming Yu waved her hands in flustered apology. “Yingluo… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

Wei Yingluo scoffed with icy disdain, flicked her sleeve, and walked away.

Along the way, the palace servants who had already heard the news were all beaming with joy, making her seem out of place.

Everyone only saw the child in the Empress’s belly; no one saw how much thinner and more worn the Empress’s body had become.

Wei Yingluo did not want to see their smiling faces, nor did she wish to remain in Changchun Palace any longer. Silently, she walked out of the palace and, without realizing it, found herself outside Yong Alley.

Someone had already spotted her and immediately passed word of her arrival to Yuan Chunwang.

“Sigh.”

Yuan Chunwang had not yet stepped out of Yong Alley when he heard a sigh.

“Sigh.”

Amused, he deliberately slowed his pace, letting the sighs from the other side continue again and again. Finally, he stopped right in front of Wei Yingluo and sighed of his own. “Sigh.”

“Sigh.” Wei Yingluo, sitting on the ground, echoed the sound, then looked up at him. “What are you sighing about?”

“This is the thirtieth sigh you’ve let out.” Yuan Chunwang stood with his hands behind his back, the hem of his robe revealing a black boot that tapped the ground idly, now and then. “I deliberately wore the shoes you made for me—they really are comfortable and convenient. Yet you don’t seem to have noticed at all.”

“Sigh.” Wei Yingluo let out her thirty-first sigh. “The Empress is pregnant.”

“Then why are you sighing?” Yuan Chunwang burst out laughing. “Isn’t this tremendous good news?”

Wei Yingluo shot him a glare and snapped irritably, “But Ye Tianshi said before that the Empress’s body is weak. If she becomes pregnant and gives birth again, it will surely shorten her lifespan! She clearly knows this, yet she still made this decision. I really don’t understand— is her health more important, or having children?”

Yuan Chunwang replied as if it were obvious, “Of course having children is more important!”

Wei Yingluo was stunned. “Brother!”

Yuan Chunwang’s gaze was calm. Unlike Wei Yingluo, who cared too deeply for the Empress and therefore couldn’t see what was right beside her, he observed everything coldly and clearly understood the greater currents in the palace.

“Yingluo,” he said gravely, “during the time the Empress was bedridden, Noble Consort Xian held great power, and Noble Consort Chun monopolized the Emperor’s favor. If the Empress continues like this, sooner or later she will lose her position. You already know the Empress’s decision is not wrong—so why are you angry?”

Wei Yingluo shook her head. “I don’t care about power or favor. I only want the Empress to be safe and sound.”

Yuan Chunwang was different from her—he actually hoped the Empress could give birth to a legitimate son. Because the Empress was Wei Yingluo’s greatest backer. The more secure the Empress’s position, the greater the benefits Wei Yingluo would receive. And a legitimate son—or better yet, a Crown Prince—would make the Empress’s status unshakable.

But these thoughts he kept to himself; he would never say them aloud to Wei Yingluo, lest she fly into a rage. Yuan Chunwang patted her on the head casually and said, “The deed is already done. What’s the use of worrying now? The important thing is to take good care of the Empress so she can give birth to a legitimate son.”

“I know, I know.” Wei Yingluo’s head spun from being patted; she quickly pushed his hand away and said fiercely, “Of course I’ll take good care of the Empress. No matter what tricks Erqing tries to play, as long as I’m here, I won’t let her succeed.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 101: Giving Birth to a Son

   Although the Empress had re-accepted Erqing, her attitude remained cool and distant—neither warm nor cold.

This was hardly surprising. Who could blame the Empress? When she had needed help the most, Erqing had left the palace without hesitation to get married, never once looking back. Only now, when she herself needed assistance, had she returned. How could the Empress possibly treat her the same as before?

“What should I do?” While combing the Empress’s hair, Erqing pondered inwardly. “How can I make the Empress trust me again, rely on me again?”

“Your Majesty!” Ming Yu suddenly rushed in from outside, as impetuous and fiery as ever. “Consort Chun has given birth! The Sixth Prince has a full heavenly court, clear brows and bright eyes. The Empress Dowager was overjoyed at first sight and personally bestowed the name Yongrong.”

The Empress was momentarily stunned, then smiled. “Yongrong—’瑽瑢’—adorned with fine jade. The Empress Dowager must like this child very much.”

“Your Majesty!” Ming Yu, however, became indignant. “Consort Chun used to visit Changchun Palace so diligently, but ever since you fell ill, she hasn’t come even once! Now with news this big, Changchun Palace was the last to know. That person really is…”

The Empress frowned. “Ming Yu, mind your words.”

Ming Yu was about to continue when Wei Yingluo tugged at her. “Consort Chun is here!”

The sound of jade pendants tinkling like broken jade rang out. Supported by Yuhu, Consort Chun entered Changchun Palace. Perhaps because she had just given birth, her figure appeared slightly fuller, not yet returned to her former slender grace. Though she had lost some of the pure freshness of a young girl, she had gained the mature allure of a young woman—like a fully ripened peach, even more enticing.

After making a slight bow to the Empress, Consort Chun said, “This concubine respectfully wishes the Empress well and good health.”

The Empress bore no grudge. Though Consort Chun had rarely come to visit during her illness, seeing her now brought genuine joy from the bottom of her heart. Dragging her still-not-fully-recovered lame leg, she personally went forward to help her up: “Rise, please. You have just given birth—there is no need for such formalities. Sit down.”

Consort Chun smiled and sat without any pretense of refusal. Her fingers gently stroked her belly as she spoke in a soft, delicate voice: “I am endlessly grateful for Niangniang’s concern, but I cannot take advantage of Your Ladyship’s magnanimity to become discourteous or presumptuous. You are the mistress of the six palaces. The fact that I am with child should have been reported to you in advance…”

Before she could finish, Yuhu, standing beside her, chimed in: “Yuhu: Empress Niangniang, you really cannot blame my mistress for this. She suddenly fainted, and only when the imperial physician was summoned to take her pulse was it discovered that she was carrying the dragon heir. She had intended to inform you earlier, but her health was poor—she lay on her sickbed for a very long time, tossed about by illness, and in all the commotion the opportunity was missed…”

Hearing this, the Empress showed no particular reaction, but Ming Yu let out a soft scoff from her mouth.

Even Wei Yingluo could hardly listen any longer. Ten months of pregnancy—could she really have lain on a sickbed for ten full months? Everyone knew that from the time she conceived until she gave birth, Consort Chun had not once set foot in Changchun Palace.

On the contrary, it was the Empress who cared about her, constantly sending people to inquire after her news. One day it would be reported that she and the Emperor had gone boating on the lake together; the next, that they were playing the qin in the imperial garden. She lived a carefree and happy life. Yet the moment she was asked to visit Changchun Palace, she would immediately come down with a headache or some ailment.

No matter how long the friendship or how deep the affection, it could not withstand such repeated grinding and wear.

Seeing that Ming Yu was about to say something more, the Empress quickly stopped her with a glance, then took Consort Chun’s hand and said gently: “Consort Chun, there is no need for such formality between you and me. I have always known your heart. Your constitution is delicate—do not come running to Changchun Palace all the time. Spend more time accompanying Yongrong instead…”

After they had conversed for a while, Consort Chun used the excuse of needing to return to care for Yongrong and took her leave.

The Empress sent Ming Yu and Yingluo to escort her. The two accompanied her all the way to the palace gate. As Consort Chun’s figure gradually receded into the distance, Ming Yu spat in her direction: “She knows full well that Niangniang lost her prince and is grieving, yet she deliberately comes here to show off. I really don’t know if she even has a heart!”

Wei Yingluo’s expression was also somewhat displeased, but she could not allow Ming Yu to continue speaking. There were many ears in the palace; words from Ming Yu’s mouth would be taken as the Empress’s own meaning.

If Consort Chun had not originally intended to make an enemy of the Empress, hearing such rumors repeatedly might turn even indifference into enmity.

“Ming Yu, stop it! The Empress has always taken care of Consort Chun and genuinely rejoices for her. Why bring up unhappy matters and make Niangniang worry?” Wei Yingluo soothed her. “Besides, Niangniang is still young. Once her health is properly restored, she can still bear a legitimate son.”

In her heart, however, she sighed deeply. With Niangniang’s current condition, continuing the line of heirs was easier said than done…

After Consort Chun left this time, she never came again. Though she did not appear, news about her kept arriving without cease.

“Niangniang, have you heard?”

In the bedchamber of Changchun Palace, while combing the Empress’s hair, Erqing spoke as if casually: “The Emperor has issued an edict conferring the title of Noble Consort Chun upon the principal occupant of Zhongcui Palace.”

In the rhombus-shaped mirror, her delicate face reflected a trace of melancholy. The Empress gave a faint, wistful smile: “I have been shut away recuperating and have been completely unaware of palace affairs. Such a major event—if you had not reminded me, I would not even have known to go and offer congratulations.”

Seeing the loneliness on the Empress’s face in the mirror, Erqing’s mind stirred. She said, “This past year, although Noble Consort Hui is gone, Noble Consort Chun has risen to take her place and now enjoys unrivaled favor across the six palaces. And now that she has given birth to the Sixth Prince, her prestige is at its height. Empress Niangniang, you must take good care of your health and give birth to a legitimate son as soon as possible!”

The Empress was stunned: “A legitimate son? That is easier said than done!”

Erqing: “This servant understands that Your Ladyship’s body has been greatly depleted and that conception will be difficult. That is why I specially sought out a fertility prescription. Would Niangniang be willing to give it a try?”

With that, she set down the ox-horn comb, reached into her bosom, and took out a brocade box she had kept hidden for a long time.

“This was originally prepared for myself, but… Lord Fuheng… hasn’t come to my chambers for a very long time now.” A flicker of sadness passed over Erqing’s face. Once again, she quietly laid her own predicament before the Empress, then forced a smile. “Your Majesty must not hesitate. The Middle Palace remains without an heir. Though the Empress Dowager says nothing aloud, resentment must surely be growing in her heart. The Emperor too will be deeply disappointed. Everyone in the Fucha clan eagerly awaits the day Your Majesty gives birth to a legitimate son!”

Erqing knew the Empress would not refuse. Having stayed by the Empress’s side for so many years, she understood exactly what the Empress longed for most in her heart.

Sure enough, after a moment of hesitation, the Empress slowly extended her hand.

Just as that hand was about to touch the brocade box, Ming Yu suddenly lunged forward like a hungry tiger pouncing on prey and snatched the box away.

Ming Yu shot a sideways glance at Erqing. Perhaps because she had encountered too many upsetting things lately, she had even learned to be suspicious of others: “Your Majesty, this is, after all, something from outside the palace. Allow this servant to take it to Court Physician Zhang for examination before Your Majesty takes it.”

But Erqing was not afraid of suspicion—because this really was the fertility prescription she had gone to great lengths to obtain for herself. She had spent immense effort and resources on it and once treasured it like her own life. Now that it was no longer of use to her, she was willing to offer it up: “Your Majesty’s health is the most important thing—this is only right and proper. However, this matter is highly confidential. Let it remain known only to the three of us. You must not speak of it further!”

Ming Yu hesitated. “Not even Wei Yingluo?”

Erqing was precisely on guard against her. How could she allow this woman to come and share in the favor again? She immediately rejected the idea: “Wei Yingluo only ever worries about Your Majesty’s health and is overly cautious. She never thinks—if there is no legitimate son, what will become of Your Majesty in the future? What will become of the Fucha family? If we tell her, won’t it only ruin everything?”

Ming Yu: “But…”

“Enough.” The Empress spoke up, cutting short their argument. Her gaze clung to the brocade box like glue as she murmured to herself, “Let me think… let me think…”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 100: Return to the Palace

   After that night when Fuheng left, he never returned with any intention of coming back. He would rather sleep on the cold, hard desk in the study than return to the bedroom.

Erqing’s days became unbearable. Almost everyone in the Fucha family was guessing that her position as young madam was probably no longer secure—especially since she had no children. For the sake of the Fucha family’s future heirs, even Lady Fucha no longer stood on her side this time and discussed with Fuheng the possibility of taking a concubine.

Life became truly difficult. Erqing felt both fear and anger. Finally, gritting her teeth, she made up her mind…

“Niangniang!”

Inside Changchun Palace, Erqing kowtowed deeply to the Empress. Beside her was a simple blue cloth bundle. With her head bowed to the ground and her voice trembling with tears, she said, “I wish to return to Changchun Palace to attend to Your Ladyship during your illness!”

The Empress sat in the principal seat. Beside her rested a walking stick that Wei Yingluo and Ming Yu had made together for her. There were no dragons or phoenixes carved on it—only two “fortune” characters written in two different handwritings.

“Attend to my illness?” The Empress was momentarily stunned.

“Yes.” Erqing raised her head, wiped her tears with a handkerchief, and said softly, “Niangniang, your health is frail, and this servant is extremely worried. I have specially informed my father and mother and obtained their consent before packing my belongings and entering the palace.”

The Empress glanced at the small bundle beside her. A dignified young madam of the Fucha family could not possibly have brought only such meager belongings—this was deliberately done for her to see.

Seeing through it but not exposing it, the Empress only gently shook her head: “The palace is not short of people. Moreover, with your current status, it is not appropriate for you to do such menial tasks. You should return.”

“Empress!” Erqing crawled forward on her knees, inching all the way to the Empress’s feet. Raising her head to look at her, she said in a pitiful voice, “This servant has followed you for six years and has long grown accustomed to serving you. Even though I’ve left the palace, I still cannot set my heart at ease! In the past, even palace maids who served the Empress Dowager well would, after getting married, be reluctantly missed and specially summoned back to remain in service—let alone this servant who married into the Fucha family and became Your Majesty’s sister-in-law. What is improper about wanting to attend to Your Majesty’s needs during illness?”

The Empress gently stroked the cane beside her.

When she had been unconscious, Erqing had not come.

When she struggled, leaning on the cane, learning step by painful step to walk again, Erqing had not come.

When she needed care the most, Erqing had not come.

On the cane there were only two characters for “blessing” (福):

one from Yingluo,

one from Ming Yu.

Not a single one from Erqing.

So the Empress smiled and said:

“No need. I already have Yingluo and Ming Yu by my side. That is enough.”

Erqing was silent for a moment, then let out a long sigh and finally revealed the truth.

“Empress.” Tears fell drop by drop onto the ground. In a mournful, heartrending voice Erqing said, “Lord Fuheng is always so busy. In a month he returns to the residence only three or four days, and even then he sleeps alone in the study. This servant is truly lonely and desolate at home… That’s why I wanted to come back to serve Your Majesty. Do you… really not want this servant anymore?”

Her voice was filled with extreme sorrow, like that of a little dog abandoned by its master.

The Empress had always been soft-hearted by nature. Although she harbored some resentment toward Erqing for being fickle and ungrateful, seeing her like this, she ultimately could not bear it and said:

“Erqing! Tell me honestly—what exactly happened?”

“Lord Fuheng favors a certain maid and has argued with this servant many times over her. In a moment of anger, I punished the maid, which greatly enraged Lord Fuheng.” Erqing sobbed as she spoke. “Now… there is no longer any place for this servant in the Fucha household.”

But the Empress did not believe her one-sided account.

Or rather, compared to Erqing’s version, the Empress trusted far more the younger brother she had watched grow up since childhood.

With a faint glance at her, the Empress said calmly:

“I have never seen Fuheng lose his temper before. It seems the mistake you made this time must have been truly serious.”

Erqing was clever. Seeing that the Empress was not falling for it, she immediately stopped trying to lie about the matter and switched to an emotional offensive instead. Clutching the hem of the Empress’s skirt, she cried desperately:

“Empress, please just allow this servant to remain in the palace and accompany you for a while—at least until Lord Fuheng’s anger subsides. Then this servant will return. Please, I beg you…”

Just as the Empress understood Fuheng, Erqing also understood the Empress very well.

She knew the Empress had always been deeply attached to old things—even an old garment would be patched and mended rather than discarded—let alone a person.

Sure enough, after hesitating for a long while, the Empress sighed helplessly and said:

“Fine. You may stay.”

The news that Erqing had returned to the palace quickly spread throughout Changchun Palace.

“The Empress is just too kind-hearted!” In the palace maids’ quarters, Ming Yu viciously cracked melon seeds between her teeth. “What kind of place is Changchun Palace? She thinks she can come and go whenever she pleases!”

Wei Yingluo glanced at her curiously. “Weren’t you once the closest to her? Why do you dislike her so much now?”

Ming Yu scoffed with a sneer.

“Ever since she became the young madam of the Fucha family, she’s become a completely different person—dressed in pearls and jewels, bossing people around. I’m just a servant; I wouldn’t dare presume to be her equal anymore!”

Wei Yingluo smiled faintly.

“People don’t change that quickly. If she really has changed, it only means you never noticed it before…”

She suddenly stopped speaking—because the door had opened.

Erqing stood leaning against the doorframe, her gaze sweeping the room before finally landing on Yingluo.

“Wei Yingluo.” Erqing raised a finger and pointed at her with the air of someone giving orders to a subordinate. “My luggage has been moved into the side hall but hasn’t been properly arranged yet. Go and tidy it up for me.”

Ming Yu was about to explode in anger, but Wei Yingluo reached out to stop her. Out of consideration for Lord Fuheng, she politely declined:

“Lady Fucha, whenever the weather is damp and rainy, the Empress’s legs ache unbearably. I still need to hurry and massage them for her.”

She yielded three parts, but Erqing pressed even harder, raising one eyebrow and saying:

“Is there no one else in Changchun Palace besides you? Ming Yu can naturally do it. You just need to help me organize my things!”

“I don’t have time,” Wei Yingluo shook her head. “Wait a moment. I’ll go ask who is free.”

She had already been extremely courteous, giving Erqing a way to save face.

But unexpectedly, the moment Yingluo stepped through the doorway, Erqing reached out and clamped down on her arm like an iron vice.

“You…”

Wei Yingluo was truly starting to lose patience.

The moment she turned her head—

a slap landed hard across her face.

“How dare you, lowly servant, defy my orders!” Erqing sneered. “The Empress is too merciful, making you forget your own place. Today, I shall teach you a lesson, so you’ll remember who is the master and who is the servant…”

Slap!

A crisp, resounding slap rang out.

Erqing was struck hard, spinning in place before staggering back to her feet, barely steady.

“You—you…” She raised a hand to cover her swollen right cheek, staring at Wei Yingluo in disbelief. “Wei Yingluo, you’ve gone mad! You actually dared to hit me!”

Wei Yingluo gave a cold smile. Earlier she had been caught off guard, but now that she had regained her senses, she would never again give the other woman a chance to slap her.

“If you want to throw your weight around, go back to your Fucha residence!” She advanced on Erqing step by step. “In Changchun Palace, there is only one master—that is the Empress! Whether it’s you or me, we are both servants! If you forget your place, then I have no choice but to remind you… with my own hands.”

Terrified that another blow was coming, Erqing shouted loudly, “Help! Help! Wei Yingluo is beating someone! Zhenzhu! Hupo! Somebody, come quickly!”

She called for a long time, but no one answered.

Erqing gradually realized something was wrong. She looked around—Zhenzhu, Hupo… all the palace servants of Changchun Palace stood at a distance, watching coldly.

It felt as though a crowd had gathered around a cage, observing a monkey leaping and scrambling inside.

“Xitara Erqing.” Wei Yingluo reached out and shoved her against the wall, planting one hand beside her ear. Her voice carried three parts mockery and seven parts scorn. “Changchun Palace is no longer your domain. If you’ve forgotten your place, I don’t mind teaching you a proper lesson—so you’ll remember who is the master and who is the servant…”

Erqing’s chest heaved violently for a moment.

The slap she had dealt Wei Yingluo had been returned in kind. The vicious words she had thrown were flung right back at her the very next second—leaving her face and heart both stinging painfully. Unable to hold back, she spat venomously, “Just you wait. I’m going to the Empress right now and ask her to deliver justice!”

Faced with the threat, Wei Yingluo didn’t even twitch an eyebrow. She simply raised a hand in invitation. “Go ahead.”

Her complete lack of fear made Erqing freeze for a second.

“Just you wait!” Hurling one last vicious remark, Erqing turned and stormed off.

Watching her retreating figure, Ming Yu approached Wei Yingluo with a trace of worry. “Yingluo…”

“It’s fine,” Wei Yingluo replied calmly. “Let her go.”

The eunuch in charge of delivering meals was clearing away the trays.

The Empress had just finished dining. The weather had grown rather warm, and her appetite was poor—most of the dishes remained untouched, with only a few refreshing side dishes sampled with a few bites.

She accepted the handkerchief offered by a palace maid, gently dabbed her lips a few times, then rose with the maid’s assistance. As she stepped out the door, she saw someone kneeling at the palace entrance.

“Empress!” The moment she appeared, Erqing burst into tearful cries. “Empress, you must seek justice for me!”

She recounted her recent ordeal with plenty of embellishment and exaggeration, deliberately speaking at the palace entrance so that everyone could hear and see.

The Empress listened quietly, her face showing not the slightest change of expression. She merely glanced up at the sky, as if feeling the heat here was unsuitable for conversation, and said indifferently, “Follow me to the bedchamber. Someone, go and summon Yingluo.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Erqing’s heart leaped with joy. Wei Yingluo, now you’re in for it!

The group entered the bedchamber. The Empress sat on the edge of the table, accepted the teacup from a maid, and slowly stirred the tea lid in a leisurely manner.

Erqing was kneeling on the floor below, her peripheral vision occasionally darting toward the door.

The door finally opened, and Wei Yingluo walked in. “Your Majesty, you summoned me?”

“No matter what, she is still your senior after all.” The Empress set the teacup down on the table. “In front of outsiders, you should give her at least some face.”

Wei Yingluo obediently replied, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Come here and massage my legs.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Erqing had been kneeling on the ground for a long time, yet no further words came.

   She couldn’t help but raise her head, looking at the Empress in bewilderment. That’s it? Nothing more? Her legs had gone numb from kneeling, her eyes were red from crying, and all she got in the end was this light, airy reprimand?

   Wei Yingluo was wholeheartedly massaging the Empress’s legs, completely focused on the task, having entirely forgotten Erqing’s presence. As her fingers pressed or tapped, the Empress’s expression softened slightly, but the way she looked at Wei Yingluo remained unchanged—gentle and full of trust.

   Suddenly noticing Erqing’s gaze, the Empress lifted her eyes and gave her a faint smile. “Why are you still here?”

In that instant, Erqing suddenly understood everything.

“No matter what, she is still your senior. In front of outsiders, you should give her at least some face.” — Those words weren’t directed at Wei Yingluo at all. They were clearly meant for her!

The subtext was painfully obvious: times have changed. Having left the palace and returned, Erqing was no longer the head palace maid of Changchun Palace. That position now belonged to someone else—to Wei Yingluo.

In front of outsiders, Erqing must give her face, instead of doing what she did today—after suffering the slightest grievance, kneeling at the main gate and making a huge scene that everyone knew about.

And the deeper implication was even clearer—the Empress fundamentally did not believe the grievances and accusations Erqing had cried about.

A cold sweat broke out down her back. Erqing slowly lowered her head. “…Yes, this servant begs to withdraw.”

She retreated properly to the door, and the moment she closed it behind her with a backward hand, she caught sight of the two of them—one sitting, one kneeling—one attentively relieving the other’s pain, the other gazing at her with gentle warmth.

Between them was an intimacy with no room for her to insert herself, no space for her to sow discord.

Erqing suddenly felt her hands and feet turn ice-cold, as though she had fallen into an icy cavern, waking up in an instant.

“Wei Yingluo was right,” she murmured to herself. “This is no longer the Changchun Palace of the past, and I am no longer the Erqing of the past…”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 99: Hard to Endure

   The news that the Empress was able to walk again reached the Fucha household, filling everyone from top to bottom with joy. The old madam, despite being ill, insisted on going to the temple to fulfill a vow. Before departing, she instructed Fuheng to return to the palace and pay a visit.

After receiving an official post, Fuheng rarely went to the rear palace anymore—partly because he was busy, and partly to avoid… not just to avoid suspicion, but to avoid her…

Now there was no avoiding it. Fuheng could only enter the palace. He lingered outside Changchun Palace for a long time before finally gathering the courage to step inside.

“Greetings, Your Majesty.” He paid his respects to the Empress, but his peripheral vision involuntarily slid sideways—toward Wei Yingluo.

Wei Yingluo stood attending beside the Empress, head bowed, silent, not uttering a word, not even glancing at him.

“Yingluo, you may withdraw,” the Empress said.

Fuheng watched dazedly as Wei Yingluo’s figure departed. Suddenly a sigh sounded in his ear: “What is past is past. Yingluo has already let go. You should let go too. Is your heart really narrower than that of a woman?”

The image of her kneeling and kowtowing once in the wind and snow reappeared in his mind. Fuheng clenched his fist, then finally said hoarsely: “Sister, rest assured. I will treat Erqing well. I won’t let her suffer any grievance.”

What he didn’t say was that ever since returning from the audience with the Emperor that day, he had been sleeping in the study. Even when he was unavoidably sharing a bed with Erqing, they slept apart like strangers—he never touched her.

“I’m sorry. I still can’t forget her right now,” Fuheng thought to himself, filled with guilt. “All I can do now is make it up to you in other ways…”

Food, clothing, shelter, and travel—every luxury was provided. Whatever Erqing wanted, Fuheng would never refuse.

The Empress had keen eyes—how could she not see what was in his heart? But even an upright official finds it hard to settle family affairs. Though she felt some resentment toward Erqing for taking advantage of the situation, in the end the decision had still been Fuheng’s own.

A decision one makes must be borne by oneself.

“It’s best if you can say it—and even better if you actually do it,” the Empress could only sigh. “Yingluo is already in the past. Erqing… is the one who will accompany you for the rest of your life.”

Fuheng gave a muffled “Mm.”

“Besides, with Erqing’s character, she is hardly unworthy of you…” In an effort to console him, the Empress began to chatter on at length, every word laced with praise for Erqing—her beauty, her talent, her steadiness, how she would make an excellent wife…

Fuheng understood her kind intentions and patiently listened until the end. Only when the Empress began to tire did he take his leave.

Burdened with heavy thoughts, he returned to the Fucha residence. The moment he stepped into the courtyard, the steward came hurrying over in a panic:

“Young Master, you’re finally back!”

Fuheng sighed. “What happened?”

In the Empress’s eyes, Erqing was a beautiful, talented, steady, and virtuous young woman—at least, the Erqing of the past had been that way.

But in reality?

The excessively long wait had made Erqing’s temper increasingly erratic. Arguments had become routine, and lately she had even begun resorting to physical violence—either punishing one servant or beating and scolding another.

“Young Master, please hurry to the study and take a look,” the steward said, still shaken. “Qinglian is about to lose her life!”

Fuheng froze for a moment, then strode quickly toward the study.

He had barely reached the doorway when a blood-curdling scream erupted from inside—only to be abruptly cut off.

“Madam, she’s fainted.”

Erqing’s voice rang out coldly: “Splash her awake.”

The sound of water splashing followed.

“Madam, shall we continue twisting?”

Erqing: “Twist—keep twisting! Cutting off her hair isn’t enough. I still need to ruin that vixen’s face. Let’s see how she’ll seduce Fuheng after this!”

Fuheng drew a deep breath, pushed the door open, and barked:

“Stop!”

The study, once filled with the fragrance of ink, had now been transformed into a scene from a nightmare. A maid was kneeling on the floor, hands bound behind her back, trembling violently.

Fuheng recognized her—and yet at the same time, he almost didn’t.

He remembered her name was Qinglian. She was quick and efficient, quiet and reserved. She had only been assigned to serve him last month, and the two of them had not even had the chance to exchange a single proper sentence.

He could barely recall what her face looked like. The only thing that had left a deep impression was her long, cloud-like hair. The first time he saw it, a line of poetry had unexpectedly surfaced in his mind:

Freshly washed with orchid paste, her cloud-like chignon gleams smooth; a jeweled hairpin slants among the black silk strands.

Now, that glorious head of hair had been hacked into ragged, uneven patches, looking like a bird’s nest maliciously torn apart by cruel hands.

Strands of severed hair lay scattered on the floor like fallen dark clouds, like drifting crow feathers. Erqing stood atop the pile of cut hair, holding a pair of golden scissors. Slowly, she brought the blades close to the maid’s face.

“Stop!” Fuheng cried out in alarm.

Erqing turned to glance at him, then suddenly smiled. Without the slightest hesitation, she drove the scissors toward the maid’s face. A long, deep gash sliced from left to right across the maid’s cheek. The girl let out a wretched scream before her head lolled forward and she fainted again.

“This head of soft, lovely black hair falling to the ground is truly a pity,” Erqing said, pinching the maid’s chin and deliberately turning her blood-drenched face toward Fuheng for him to see. Smiling sweetly, she continued, “Why don’t we sew all this hair back into the wound? Let her face sprout black strands, make her look like a ghost, so she’ll never dare show her face in public again… What do you think, my husband?”

Fuheng had been to war. He had killed before. He had thought himself unafraid of bloodshed, unafraid of death. Yet at this moment, watching the woman before him smile so charmingly and innocently, a sudden chill crawled up his spine.

“Someone… take Qinglian away and call a physician to treat her wounds,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment before issuing the order.

The steward hurried forward to lift Qinglian. Erqing’s eyes flashed coldly. She pointed the golden scissors at him:

“Did I give permission for her to leave?”

Fuheng could endure no more. In a few strides he closed the distance, snatched the scissors from her hand, and flung them to the floor. In a low, heavy voice he commanded:

“Everyone—get out!”

After everyone had withdrawn, he looked at Erqing with a gaze heavy with pain:

“Erqing, are you still going to keep making trouble?”

“Making trouble?” Erqing laughed. “Fucha Fuheng, for this entire year you’ve been sleeping in the study, never once stepping into my room. Was it all because of her?”

Fuheng frowned.

“What are you saying?”

“Today I came in and saw with my own eyes how she was making your bed and folding your quilts! Fucha Fuheng, we’ve been married less than a year, and yet you humiliate me like this!” The more Erqing spoke, the more agitated she became. Finally she rushed forward and began tearing at him in a frenzy.

Fuheng did not fight back. He merely raised an arm to block her. As a result, a hairpin slipped from his sleeve, fell to the ground, and broke into two pieces.

Her eyes swept over the hairpin, and Erqing grew even angrier:

“You still say there’s nothing between you and her—this is proof!”

“…This hairpin was originally meant to be a gift for you.” Fuheng turned away, his voice filled with exhaustion. “But now it seems there’s no need.”

He walked out the door. The world was vast, yet suddenly he had no idea where to go or whom to see. After hesitating on the road for a moment, he changed direction and went to the servants’ quarters to visit the innocent Qinglian, who had suffered unjustly.

The doctor had already been summoned and was tending to her injuries. Looking at her face wrapped round after round in white bandages, a flash of guilt passed through Fuheng’s eyes. For a young woman, her face often determined the happiness of the rest of her life. The sin Erqing had committed—he would repay it. If this girl could never marry because of it, he was willing to support her for the rest of her life…

“…Young Master.” A gentle female voice suddenly spoke.

The voice sounded so strikingly like Wei Yingluo’s that Fuheng was dazed for a long moment before he came back to himself.

“…Yes? What is it?”

Qinglian, lying on the bed, tremblingly reached into her bosom and took out an object, offering it to him with shaking hands.

A somewhat faded-looking sachet.

The token of love from Qixi Festival… that in the end had become the witness to their parting.

Fuheng was stunned.

“…How is this with you?”

“When this slave was tidying Young Master’s bed, I accidentally found this sachet. The Young Madam must have misunderstood, which is why she flew into such a rage.” Qinglian paused, then continued, “I saw how carefully Young Master kept it hidden under the pillow, so I knew it must be very precious to you… I took the liberty of hiding it away, so the Young Madam wouldn’t throw it out…”

Fuheng looked at her hands… Not only had Erqing cut off her hair, she had also torn out her fingernails. All ten fingers were now bare stubs, swollen like radishes, already turning blue and purple, with blood still seeping from the wounds.

“…Doctor.” Fuheng reached out and took the sachet, then instructed, “Don’t do half a job. Wrap her fingers properly as well. If there are any other injuries on her body, bandage those too.”

“Thank… thank you, Young Master…” Qinglian forced out her thanks, not a single word of complaint.

Her voice really did sound remarkably like Yingluo’s…

Fuheng glanced at her once more, then turned and left. On the way, he instructed the steward:

“Once Qinglian’s injuries have healed, let her continue cleaning the study. As for the Young Madam—bar her from entering the study again!”

“Yes, sir!”

Barring Erqing from the study did not, however, bar her from other places.

Such as their shared bedroom.

Erqing had been married into the family for nearly a year, yet her belly showed no sign of movement. Lady Fucha was eager to hold a grandson soon, so she kept pressuring Fuheng to sleep in the bedroom.

The blood in the study had not yet been fully cleaned, so it was temporarily uninhabitable. Fuheng had no choice but to return to his own room. But he truly did not want to see Erqing’s face, so he extinguished the lamp early and lay on his side, facing inward.

Behind him came a sigh. In the darkness, Erqing’s voice rang out, full of apology:

“Fuheng, I know I was wrong.”

Fuheng remained silent.

“We are newlyweds. You’re busy with official duties every day and have no time to consider my feelings. I couldn’t help but get angry for a moment and took it out on a maidservant.” At first Erqing merely lay beside him shoulder to shoulder. As she spoke, her body gradually inched closer. Finally she reached out, wrapped her arms around him, and cooed in a spoiled tone:

“Alright, alright. If you truly like her, then in the future you can simply take her as a concubine. But after all, she comes from lowly origins—she’ll never be presentable on the main stage…”

Fuheng could no longer bear it. He sat up and said coldly, “You still don’t understand even now?”

Erqing said aggrievedly, “I’ve already lowered myself to come and apologize. Why are you still being so aggressive?”

Fuheng: “Because of a momentary misunderstanding, you twisted her hair, forcibly pulled out her fingernails, and even branded her with a hot iron! She is also a human being. In your eyes, is a human life worth so little?”

Erqing said matter-of-factly, “Who treats a maidservant as a real person!”

Fuheng said in disbelief, “The Xitara Erqing I once saw in Changchun Palace was gentle, virtuous, dignified, and amiable. But now? You spend your days socializing and entertaining, passing news and people from the Fucha family to your family and Laibao, while abusing maidservants in every possible way. Do you truly want to live a good life?”

Erqing said angrily, “Fucha Fuheng, that is my grandfather—he is not an outsider at all! In official circles, one must stick together. Don’t you need his support?”

Fuheng: “I don’t need it! The Emperor hates nothing more than people forming cliques. I have warned you so many times—why do you refuse to change?”

Erqing, furious and exasperated: “You sound so righteous and noble, but in truth it’s because you still have Wei Yingluo in your heart. That’s why you pick on me at every turn and find me displeasing!”

Fuheng was struck at his sore spot, yet he said firmly, “Yes, I have not forgotten her! But I have been trying—I have tried to treat you well, tried to give you everything you want! Yet now, the moment I see you, I think of those blood-drenched hands!”

Erqing: “Fuheng, Wei Yingluo is even more vicious than I am!”

Fuheng, in a rage: “Wei Yingluo may love and hate clearly, but she never harms the innocent! You, on the other hand—out of momentary jealousy, you can ruin someone’s entire life!”

Erqing scoffed with icy disdain: “So what if you can’t forget her? I am your wife—the one you are supposed to love!”

That was how it should have been.

This was also the promise Fuheng had made to the Empress. He had tried very hard to fulfill it; otherwise, he would not have indulged Erqing in every way over the past year, nor would he have bought a gold hairpin to give her.

Unfortunately, when that gold hairpin broke in two, the narrow crack in his heart that had just begun to open closed once again. Fuheng suddenly sat up, picked up a robe and draped it over himself, then got out of bed and walked straight toward the door without any hesitation.

“Wait!” Erqing immediately panicked. “Where are you going?”

“Xitara Erqing.” Fuheng called her full name, pushed open the door, and said without looking back, “In my heart, you will never compare to Wei Yingluo! Your cruelty and viciousness disgust me to the extreme.”

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