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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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 98: Sharing the Same Bed, Different Dreams

Her ear was softly licked, gradually growing hot and tingling. Wei Yingluo struggled desperately, but her hands and feet were pinned down—she couldn’t move at all.

“Your Majesty!” In a flash of inspiration, a fawning smile suddenly bloomed on Wei Yingluo’s face.

“Actually… everything this slave said just now was completely against my true feelings. This slave has long wished to be close to Your Majesty, but with so many beauties in the harem and this slave’s lowly status, there was never an opportunity. So I deliberately provoked you—taking a dangerous gamble! Now that Your Majesty has taken a liking to this slave, I am overjoyed! This slave is willing to serve Your Majesty… however…”

The licking at her earlobe paused. Hongli slowly sat up.

“What do you want to become?”

“This slave…” Wei Yingluo licked her lips, deliberately putting on a greedy expression. “This slave wants to become a Noble Lady. I don’t want to remain a mere palace maid any longer!”

How could Hongli bear to look at her like this?

His expression instantly turned icy cold.

“Your ambition is quite large. So you were waiting here for exactly this!”

Wei Yingluo assumed a soft, alluring demeanor and deliberately drew closer.

“Your Majesty… will you agree…?”

Hongli suddenly reached out and shoved Wei Yingluo off the bed. She let out a yelp and landed in a sorry heap on the floor.

All the desire in his chest was extinguished by her words in an instant. Hongli looked down at her from above, suddenly losing all interest. His face grimed as he said:

“A filthy woman like you is not fit to touch my bed!”

Wei Yingluo’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“Your Majesty!”

Hongli:

“Get out!”

Wei Yingluo quickly stood up and retreated toward the door, trembling.

Hongli:

“Stop!”

Wei Yingluo froze, thinking he had changed his mind again. But before she could put on another ridiculous expression, she heard him say from behind her:

“From this day forward, you are nothing more than an ordinary servant in Changchun Palace. Serve the Empress well. Do not harbor any more delusions. I will never want a woman with ulterior motives!”

“Yes.” Wei Yingluo responded with an appearance of disappointment. Once she stepped out the door, her footsteps quickened. As she walked, she scrubbed hard at the rouge and powder on her face. Suddenly her steps halted. She looked ahead—not far away was Changchun Palace, and approaching it with difficulty, leaning on a cane, was a certain figure.

“Niangniang.” It was Ming Yu’s voice. She supported the person and said, “Why come out personally to meet her in such heavy snow…?”

“I wanted to be the first to see her.” The person smiled, her voice as warm as a spring breeze. “I wanted to tell her… you’re back.”

Tears suddenly filled Wei Yingluo’s eyes. She wiped them away with one hand and ran quickly toward the figure.

“Niangniang, I’m back!”

The Empress turned her head to look at her. A flash of joy passed through her eyes. Leaning on two canes, she hurried toward her—but because she was still unfamiliar with the crutches, after only two steps she stumbled and fell toward the snow.

“Be careful!” Wei Yingluo rushed forward to catch her. Looking at the fallen canes on the ground, tears of sorrow streamed down her face.

“Niangniang… your legs…”

“I’ve been lying in bed for too long.” The Empress said lightly, “But the imperial physician said that as long as I practice diligently, one day I’ll be able to stand again… Even if I can’t stand, don’t I still have you?”

“Yes… yes…” Wei Yingluo choked out through tears, “If you cannot stand, Yingluo is willing to be your crutch for the rest of my life.”

The Empress was momentarily stunned. She suddenly closed her eyes, and tears fell abruptly.

Ming Yu’s eyes also reddened: “Don’t forget me—I want to stay with Her Majesty too!”

Wei Yingluo had once harbored unpleasant feelings toward Ming Yu, leaving a knot of resentment in her heart. Though they had worked side by side serving the Empress, their relationship had never been close. But with those words, all the old grudges vanished in an instant. Holding back tears, Wei Yingluo smiled at her: “Well said. Come—let’s both support Her Majesty back together.”

Snow and wind filled the sky. Wei Yingluo and Ming Yu supported the Empress from left and right. The warmth of their three bodies pressed together felt like spring even in the depths of winter.

Days rose and set, time flew by. The jasmine flowers in Changchun Palace bloomed and fell, fell and bloomed again. In the blink of an eye, spring had arrived.

A line of palace maids entered Chengqian Palace carrying trays.

On the trays were various small delicacies: wind-dried chestnuts, tofu-skin buns, yam cakes, and more. Noble Consort Xian selected a bowl of sugar-steamed milk custard. The bowl had a rim of celadon blue like distant misty mountains, while inside lay a mound of smooth custard as white as snow in the hills.

Yongcheng lay draped across Noble Consort Xian’s lap, staring longingly at the custard in the bowl.

“I heard you visited Changchun Palace a few days ago.” Noble Consort Xian held a long silver spoon, scooping up half a spoonful and feeding it to him. “How was it? Can the Empress walk yet?”

Yongcheng opened his little mouth wide, smacking his lips as he ate. In no time, a ring of milky white circled his mouth. Consort Chun, watching from the side, was lost in thought for a long moment before realizing Noble Consort Xian had been speaking to her. She replied: “There has been some improvement, but without crutches she still cannot walk more than a few steps.”

A palace servant approached and set a tray of snacks on the table beside her: a plate of chestnut cakes, a plate of rose crisps, a plate of yam cakes. Consort Chun picked up a piece of rose crisp. Seeing Yongcheng look at her with eager, hopeful eyes, she tentatively offered it to him. The child snatched it lightning-fast and began nibbling like a little hamster, quickly acquiring another ring of sugar around his mouth.

The way this child ate was extraordinarily cheerful. Watching him, Consort Chun couldn’t help but smile. Then Noble Consort Xian’s laughter suddenly sounded in her ear: “Sister, you are still so young—you should think more about yourself.”

Yongcheng was a considerate little boy. After eating half, he held the remaining half up to Noble Consort Xian’s mouth, mumbling in his childish voice: “Eat… eat…”

“Palace life is lonely. Having an older brother—no, even just a little sister—would make the days much happier.” Noble Consort Xian took a gentle bite from his hand, then let him finish the rest himself. “The moment you wake up each day, you hear a child’s cries and laughter, and the vast palace instantly becomes lively and warm.”

Consort Chun gazed at Yongcheng in a daze.

“I know that in the past, you avoided favor for the sake of the Empress. But times have changed.” Noble Consort Xian sighed. “The Central Palace is empty of heirs, and Her Majesty the Empress…”

Consort Chun frowned: “What about the Empress?”

Noble Consort Xian: “Physician Zhang said that Her Majesty’s body was injured, and bearing children will be difficult from now on.”

This was the first Consort Chun had heard of it. After all, the two of them had grown up playing together and entered the palace together to serve the Emperor as close friends. After so many years, it was impossible to have no feelings at all. Though a rift had formed because of Fuheng, hearing this news now still made her feel sorrow on the Empress’s behalf.

“Look at me—why did I bring this up and needlessly worry you!” Noble Consort Xian suddenly smiled brightly. With an almost imperceptible push of her right hand behind Yongcheng’s back—

Yongcheng’s feet touched the ground. Pushed gently, he took two wobbly steps toward Consort Chun.

Seeing him totter, Consort Chun quickly reached out. The child showed no stranger-shyness; he grinned and stretched his little hands toward her. Once she lifted him into her arms, he curiously reached up to touch her elaborate hairdo, accidentally messing it up. Consort Chun didn’t mind at all; instead, she fondly stroked his head: “The Fourth Prince is truly so lively and adorable.”

Noble Consort Xian handed the bowl to Zhener: “You may take Yongcheng away for now!”

Zhener: “Yes.”

With neat and orderly footsteps, all the palace servants attending the meal withdrew. Even Yongcheng was carried out by Zhener. In the room, only Noble Consort Xian and Consort Chun remained.

Noble Consort Xian walked to the dressing table and beckoned to Consort Chun: “Your hair is a bit disheveled. Come, let me fix it for you.”

A beauty like a flower, years flowing like water.

Her long hair was let down. The horn comb glided through it from root to tip. Holding the comb herself, Noble Consort Xian stood behind Consort Chun: “So many years have passed, yet little sister’s appearance is still as lovely as ever. If you’re willing, everything can still be salvaged.”

Consort Chun gazed at the delicate reflection in the mirror; her willow-leaf brows, faintly tinged with sorrow, drew slightly together.

“What? Even now, at this point, are you still willing to continue to side. with the Empress?” Noble Consort Xian smiled. “You’ve followed her for so many years—what have you gained? Nothing but wasted time and fading youth. Look…”

She actually found a single white hair on Consort Chun’s head, gently plucked it out, and placed it on the table.

“Little sister, you already have white hair.” Noble Consort Xian sighed. “You’re still young now, still beautiful. But what about when you grow old?”

In the past, Consort Chun would have let such divisive words blow past her ears like the wind—she would have heard them and forgotten them. But just as Noble Consort Xian had said, times had changed. A rift had already formed between her and the Empress, so every word, every syllable, sank deep into her heart.

“There will only be more and more women in the rear palace… but men—there is only one.” Noble Consort Xian’s voice was gentle, as though every sentence was spoken purely for her benefit, seductive and bewitching: “Raise a son to provide for your old age—even the eunuchs in the palace understand this principle. When old age comes, adopting a son or daughter to rely on for protection… yet you still can’t see it clearly?”

“I…” Consort Chun’s mind was in utter turmoil.

“There.” The hair was now neatly arranged. A golden phoenix hairpin was inserted into Consort Chun’s updo. Noble Consort Xian leaned slightly forward, placed both hands on the other woman’s shoulders, and her smiling face appeared in the mirror opposite—radiant like a flower. “Little sister, you’ve been lost in a long dream. It’s time for you to wake up.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 97: Serving in the Bedchamber

   Wei Yingluo slowly opened her eyes.

Her limbs felt weak and limp, as though she were floating on clouds. After a while, her mind gradually cleared, and she looked around to assess her current situation.

This was a clean room. She lay on a bed with two thick quilts beneath her. A kang stove burned warmly beside her, filling the room with spring-like warmth.

“Yingluo, you’re finally awake.” Several palace maids gathered around. One held a towel, another carried hot tea. Wei Yingluo didn’t dare accept or drink anything. She watched them warily: “Where is this place? Why am I here?”

“This is one of the side chambers in Yangxin Hall,” a palace maid replied with a smile, her eyes carrying a trace of envy. “Yingluo, you walked through the heavy snow for four whole hours. His Majesty showed mercy and pardoned your offense.”

The moment Wei Yingluo heard it was a side chamber, she immediately flipped off the bed without another word and rushed toward the door.

“Hey, where are you going?” The maids hurried to block her.

“Hasn’t His Majesty already pardoned me?” Wei Yingluo suppressed the unease and anxiety in her heart and said, “I need to return to Changchun Palace.”

The two maids exchanged a glance and burst into giggles.

Maid: “Even if you want to go back to Changchun Palace, you can’t go looking like that—you’ll frighten Her Majesty the Empress!”

Wei Yingluo looked down at herself. Indeed, she was in a wretched state—covered not only in snow but also mud. The heat from the kang had dried it all onto her clothes. When she leaned in closer, there was a strange, unpleasant smell.

Maid: “We’ll help you wash up and change clothes, then do your hair again. Come!”

Wei Yingluo hesitated at first, but the maids pulled her firmly behind the screen.

The water in the bath tub was neither too hot nor too cold. One maid constantly tested the temperature with her hand; if it cooled even slightly, she called for someone to add a scoop of hot water, keeping the water at exactly the same warmth.

The maids helped Wei Yingluo bathe her body and wash her hair. A horn comb was drawn gently from root to tip, and finally a light fragrance oil was applied, leaving her hair glossy black with a faint scent of gardenia.

Once she was fully washed, dressed, and adorned, Wei Yingluo looked at the mirror they handed her and couldn’t help frowning: “What is the meaning of this?”

The unease in her heart seemed to be gradually turning into reality. Just look at what the mirror reflected: a gold-inlaid butterfly hairpin, Zhenzhu-style earrings, a winter robe embroidered with a hundred butterflies flitting among flowers. This was absolutely not the attire of a palace maid—it was the proper dress of a mistress of the palace.

The two maids exchanged smiles and spoke in unison: “Congratulations, Yingluo!”

Before Wei Yingluo could react, the two quickly left and locked the door behind them.

Wei Yingluo panicked and rushed straight to the door: “Open the door! Open it quickly! What are you people doing?!”

She pounded on the door for a long time, but not even a crack budged. Finally, gritting her teeth, she lowered her body and slammed upward with all her strength—only for the door to suddenly swing open from the outside. Caught completely off guard, she stumbled forward and fell right into a man’s arms.

This sensation… it was unmistakably the same person who had held her when she fainted earlier.

Wei Yingluo slowly raised her head. She never could have imagined it would be him:

“Your Majesty…”

Hongli looked down at her, a flash of amazement passing through his eyes.

Wei Yingluo was a beauty. Even dressed in a palace maid’s robes, she stood out among the crowd of maids, instantly drawing attention. Yet the palace was never short of beautiful women, and Hongli had never considered himself someone easily swayed by feminine charms. But today, at this moment, his mind was filled entirely with the conversation he had earlier with the Empress.

“Your Majesty, are you truly insisting on breaking off this marriage without any personal motives?”

   “What personal motives could I possibly have!”

   “Perhaps… Your Majesty has taken a liking to Wei Yingluo and wishes to keep her for yourself.”

   “Your Majesty…” Wei Yingluo’s puzzled voice pulled him back from his memories.

Hongli blinked. Only then did he realize that, at some point, his right hand had already risen to gently caress her cheek—tenderly, almost reluctantly.

Wei Yingluo seemed startled by his touch. She quickly stepped back several paces and raised her hand to remove the earring from her right ear:

“Your Majesty, please forgive me. The palace maids must have given me the wrong clothes and jewelry. This servant will take them off at once!”

She hurriedly removed the earrings, bracelets, hairpins, and rings. Then she suddenly noticed how unnaturally quiet the room had become. Cautiously glancing toward Hongli, she saw that he had, at some unknown moment, seated himself in a chair, one hand propping up his chin as he watched her.

“What’s wrong?” he said lightly. “Go on.”

No way… Wei Yingluo clutched the front of her robe with one hand and swallowed hard.

All the jeweled hairpins and ornaments had already been removed and placed on the table. The only thing left on her body was this single garment…

Hongli tapped his fingers on the tabletop: “Weren’t you going to change? Why have you stopped?”

Wei Yingluo gripped her robe even tighter: “This servant’s original clothes are all soaked through. I dare not offend Your Majesty’s presence.”

After a brief silence, Hongli suddenly said: “Come here.”

Bound by the order, Wei Yingluo could only grit her teeth and take a tiny step forward.

Hongli frowned: “I said come here.”

Warily, Wei Yingluo edged one more step closer—only to be suddenly yanked forward by Hongli until she stood right in front of him.

As if unwilling to bear the irritation alone, Hongli stared at her for a long moment before abruptly asking:

“The Empress said I’ve taken a fancy to you. What do you think?”

Wei Yingluo’s heart pounded wildly—not from being moved, but from sheer fright. Forcing a smile onto her face, she replied:

“Your Majesty must be joking. The rear palace is filled with beauties, a riot of purple and red. This servant is crude and ignorant—nothing more than a roadside wildflower. How could I possibly dare to tarnish Your Majesty’s eyes!”

Hongli studied her carefully. His gaze made every hair on Wei Yingluo’s body stand on end. Suddenly, he laughed:

“Upon careful reflection… a garden full of flowers blooming together makes for true spring. I’ve grown tired of obedient, gentle beauties. Having one prickly little thorn like you around would actually be quite interesting.”

Wei Yingluo was shocked: “Your Majesty!”

Hongli: “What? You’re unwilling?”

Wei Yingluo felt goosebumps rise all over her body. Wherever he had touched her itched as though caterpillars were crawling across her skin. She used every ounce of willpower not to shove him away, managing only a strained smile:

“Your Majesty, this servant only wishes to stay by the Empress’s side. Why must you, for a momentary whim, damage the affection between you and Her Majesty? Besides… besides, you are the Emperor, possessing the wealth of the four seas, broad-minded and magnanimous… and also…”

Hongli’s lips curved slightly: “And also what?”

Wei Yingluo said anxiously:

“Your Majesty, with a single imperial decree you could summon the most peerless beauties in the realm—plump like Lady Huan or slender like Lady Yan, all varieties available! I guarantee every one of them would be gentle and perfectly to your taste. Why must you force someone unwilling? It only diminishes your dignity!”

Hongli scoffed with icy disdain.

“It seems you’re unwilling.”

Wei Yingluo answered decisively:

“How can a house sparrow flock with a phoenix? This slave knows her own place!”

Hongli pondered for a moment.

“‘Thinking of the vastness of the Nine Provinces—surely it is not only here that beautiful women exist.’ I am the Emperor of Great Qing, master of the Nine Provinces. The beauties of the entire realm are mine to choose from. Why would I force an unwilling woman? There is no pleasure in it at all!”

Wei Yingluo was just about to feel relieved when suddenly her body lightened—she was lifted horizontally into someone’s arms.

Hongli sneered:

“Were you hoping I would say exactly that?”

He carried her to the bed and placed her down, then knelt on one knee beside her. Leaning over, his upper body pressed down like a mountain collapsing, making it hard for Wei Yingluo to breathe. The moment she turned her head aside, she felt his lips lightly brush her earlobe. Warm breath poured into her ear as he smiled and said:

“Let me tell you—I find forcing a woman for the first time particularly interesting! The more unwilling you are, the more I want to possess you!”

With that, he gently pecked her ear.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 96: Walking in the Snow

After the wedding was completed, Fuheng brought Erqing into the palace to pay respects to the Emperor. That day the flying snow was endless; both of them were wrapped in thick fox-fur cloaks, yet they still could not completely block out the bone-chilling cold outside. When the wind blew, it felt as though their very bones were freezing.

As they reached the outside of Qianqing Palace, they suddenly saw a solitary, frail figure kneeling on snow as thick as cotton wadding.

“This slave deserves to die ten thousand deaths!” The person rose, took three steps forward, then knelt again. “This slave deserves to die ten thousand deaths!”

Three steps and one kowtow—her forehead smashed a depression into the snow. Behind her stretched a long line of such depressions, gradually being filled in again by the wind and snow.

“Yingluo…” Fuheng’s eyes widened in shock. “This—this is… what’s happening?”

Li Yu replied:

“His Majesty said that Wei Yingluo is to start from Qianqing Palace and walk through all the Eastern and Western Six Palaces. Three steps and one kowtow. If she completes twelve full hours like this, he will forgive her offense and allow her to return to Changchun Palace to serve.”

Fuheng stared at Wei Yingluo, his expression shifting between dark and light, uncertain. Even after they entered Yangxin Hall to pay respects to the Emperor, his face remained the same.

By chance, Hongli’s expression was just as unsettled. When the two of them stood together, the temperature inside the room felt no different from outside—piercing, bone-chilling cold that made everyone else shiver.

“Enough.” Today Hongli seemed to have little interest in idle chat. After only a few words, he dismissed the newlyweds:

“Go to the Empress now. Let her meet her new sister-in-law as well.”

“…Yes.”

After the couple withdrew, Hongli picked up a memorial and began flipping through it. A gust of cold wind blew in through the window. He pressed his right fist to his lips and coughed lightly several times.

Li Yu hurried over to close the window. From behind him came Hongli’s voice, sudden and low:

“Is she still kowtowing?”

The hand closing the window paused. Looking out at the increasingly heavy snowfall and the figure growing smaller and smaller in the snow, Li Yu answered:

“Yes.”

Hongli: “How many hours has she been at it?”

“Already three hours.” As he spoke, Li Yu carefully observed the Emperor’s expression. Seeing his face grow darker and darker, he ventured to read the imperial mood:

“Your Majesty, Wei Yingluo is, after all, a woman. On such a heavy snow day, forcing her to do three steps and one kowtow for a full twelve hours… I fear she will freeze solid!”

“I gave her a choice.” Hongli suddenly slammed the memorial down on the table. “She was the one who refused to appreciate my favor!”

Fuheng was stunned. “Your Majesty…”

Hongli turned to look out the window, remembering the two choices he had given her earlier.

“First: personally admit to Fuheng, with your own mouth, that you have never liked him—that everything was because of your greed for vanity, that you deceived him!”

“Second: starting from Qianqing Palace, three steps and one kowtow, confessing your wrongs with every bow, until you have completed twelve full hours.”

“Complete either one, and I will allow you to return to Changchun Palace!”

And how had she answered?

   It couldn’t have been clearer.

   Outside, the sound of the snow howled in, accompanied by those distant-yet-near cries:

“This slave deserves to die ten thousand deaths!”

The snow grew heavier and heavier, like white ink splashed from left to right, covering Wei Yingluo’s hair, her eyelashes, her shoulders—turning her into a snowman. She staggered forward through the blizzard, her body cold, her heart even colder.

Suddenly a black oil-paper umbrella tilted over from the side, shielding her head.

Wei Yingluo slowly turned to look. She saw Yuan Chunwang standing there holding the umbrella. Snowflakes fell one by one onto the umbrella, gradually covering its surface completely in white. His expression was unreadable as he asked:

“Are you sad?”

“Sad.” Wei Yingluo coughed twice, then gave a tearful smile. “But from now on, I won’t be sad anymore. From this day forward, between him and me, all affection is severed, all bonds are broken. When we meet again, we will be strangers!”

“That’s good.” Yuan Chunwang smiled. “Come. I’ll walk the rest of the way with you.”

This path was the one Wei Yingluo had chosen for herself—she could only walk it to the end, even if she had to crawl the rest of the way on her knees.

Yuan Chunwang could not carry her, nor could he support her. All he could do was hold that oil-paper umbrella steady, quietly accompanying her at her side, walking the road with her in silence.

Along the way, the umbrella was tilted entirely over her head.

The wind and snow grew heavier. Half of Yuan Chunwang’s body remained exposed outside the umbrella, and soon snow pellets had soaked him through. Yet he paid it no mind. After some unknowable stretch of time, he suddenly said, “We’ve arrived.”

Yangxin Hall was not far ahead. Wei Yingluo, her lips purple and trembling, struggled to rise from the ground: “You go now. Don’t let anyone see that… Cough… it was you who helped me. Otherwise… cough… you would get into trouble.”

Yuan Chunwang let out a soft sigh. Like a shadow, he retreated behind her, his figure melting away behind the wall.

Only then did Wei Yingluo force her body forward. Her knees had long since lost all feeling. Every step was excruciatingly difficult; what flowed through her veins felt not like warm blood, but icy slush.

“Her Majesty the Empress…” She silently repeated the words in her heart several times. Relying on sheer grit and stubborn obsession, she finally staggered to the entrance of Yangxin Hall. A hand, frozen purple, reached out toward the door. Before it could touch the panel, her vision darkened. Just before she fainted, she vaguely saw a tall figure rushing toward her.

Who was it?

Wei Yingluo tried desperately to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt weighted with lead and refused to lift.

She could only feel a pair of hands—hard, unmistakably a man’s—tightly wrapping around her and holding her close.

At the same moment, inside Changchun Palace.

A hand reached out from the veranda, catching a single snowflake in the palm.

The same snowfall that brought Wei Yingluo cold and despair brought Erqing… nothing but contentment on her face.

“Erqing.” Ming Yu’s voice came from behind her. “Are you happy?”

Erqing did not turn her head. “Why do you ask?”

“You and I entered the palace together to serve Her Majesty the Empress. We ate together, slept together. Many of the tasks Her Majesty assigned, we often did side by side.” Ming Yu spoke haltingly.

“Ming Yu.” Erqing laughed softly, finally turning around. The jewels in her hair sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I just feel… I feel…” Ming Yu looked at her with a complicated expression. “It’s only been a few days, yet you seem like an entirely different person. I can’t find any trace of the old you anymore…”

The former Erqing had been cautious and prudent. She never spoke a single improper word, never took a single improper action—worldly wisdom ran deep in her bones.

A palace maid so flawless in conduct naturally won the favor of her masters.

Even the mistresses of other palaces, when mentioning Erqing, would praise her without end, calling her the most capable and trusted person by the Empress’s side.

Having grown accustomed to that version of Erqing, it was difficult to adjust to the one standing before her now.

Dressed in robes with extremely elaborate patterns, adorned with jewelry that was clearly priceless, and wearing an unmasked look of willful, delighted freedom in her eyes and brows.

It was as though she were deliberately showing off her success to everyone else.

“My status has changed, so naturally I am no longer the same as before.” Erqing smiled and took Ming Yu’s hand. “But no matter what, I will never forget the friendship we once shared. From now on, since I will no longer be by Her Majesty’s side, you must take my place and serve Her Majesty well.”

Ming Yu hesitated for a long while, words rising and falling back, until at last she could hold back no longer: “Erqing… is this really alright?”

The relationship between Wei Yingluo and Fuheng could be hidden from outsiders, but not from those inside Changchun Palace.

Knowing full well that Fuheng’s heart belonged to Wei Yingluo, and yet still eagerly marrying him anyway—such an act of openly seizing someone else’s love… was it really alright?

Erqing smiled coyishly, avoiding the question entirely and instead steering the conversation elsewhere.

“Just as you said,” she replied. “My grandfather was the Minister of Justice, and now our entire family has been raised into the banner nobility. We are a true household of officials, a prominent and illustrious family. Marrying Fuheng is a perfect match of status and a match made in heaven—what could possibly be wrong with that?”

You know full well that’s not what I was asking… Ming Yu looked at her with a complicated expression.

   “Besides…” Erqing’s gaze shifted, turning toward the outside of the flower pavilion. Snow weighed heavily on the branches, bending them low. Clumps of white snow fell to the ground. Two young palace maids were sweeping the snow with brooms, their faces contorted from the cold, noses and cheeks red.

It seemed as though she saw her own former self in those two girls. Erqing stared blankly for a long moment before continuing: “I endured six years of being a lowly servant. At last the bitterness has ended and sweetness has come. Aren’t you happy for me?”

“A lowly servant?” Ming Yu tilted her head. “Her Majesty has always been very good to us.”

“No matter how good things are in Changchun Palace, in the end we are still slaves—we must bow and scrape.” Erqing let out a soft laugh. “You should start planning for your own future soon too.”

Ming Yu’s gaze toward her grew increasingly unfamiliar. She slowly withdrew her hand and said, “No. I’m not going anywhere. I will stay and serve Her Majesty the Empress!”

“Everyone has their own aspirations. If you’re unwilling, I won’t force you.” Erqing drew her white fox-fur cloak tighter around her shoulders and once again turned her eyes toward the scene outside the pavilion—the green pines beyond, and the two snow-sweeping palace maids, which had now become the scenery in her eyes. “In the past, when I was in the palace, I dreaded snow the most. I feared the heavy snow would break the flower branches and make Her Majesty sad. I also feared running into some master from another palace—forced to kneel on the spot in bone-chilling cold. Now, at last, I can properly enjoy the snow.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 95: The Wedding is coming!!

   After returning from Changchun Palace, Hongli was still seething with undiminished anger.

“Me, liking that woman? No, impossible! I would never like her!” A huge pile of memorials awaited his review, yet he couldn’t read a single word. Grinding his teeth, he paced back and forth inside Yangxin Hall. “I possess all within the seas—what kind of woman can’t I have? As beautiful as Noble Consort Hui, as virtuous and capable as Noble Consort Xian, as talented and brilliant as Consort Chun…”

He listed one palace consort after another, finally convincing himself—it wasn’t that he was blind; clearly the Empress’s eyes were the problem.

No—obviously she had been bewitched by that damned girl, which had confused her mind and made her unable to tell north from south!

“Your Majesty.” Li Yu’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Fuheng, the Imperial Guard, has arrived.”

Hongli opened his eyes, took a deep breath: “Let him in.”

Fuheng entered and performed the greeting: “This servant respectfully wishes Your Majesty well.”

“Fuheng.” Hongli sat in his chair, looking down at him from above. “I have always kept you by my side to temper and train you. Now you are capable of standing on your own. After your marriage, you will take up a post in the Ministry of Revenue as Right Vice Minister.”

Fuheng was stunned upon hearing this: “Your Majesty, this servant is still young. To suddenly assume such a high position, I fear…”

Hongli waved his hand, cutting off the rest of his words: “Fuheng, my expectations for you go far beyond a mere post in the Ministry of Revenue. I know your ambitions lie elsewhere! But you must remember: a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. If you wish to establish great merit and achievements, you must first prove to everyone that my judgment was not wrong! The Ministry of Revenue will be your starting point!”

With the Emperor having spoken to this extent, Fuheng could no longer refuse. He prostrated himself: “This servant kowtows in gratitude for Your Majesty’s extraordinary grace!”

Once official business was concluded, Hongli hesitated for a moment before finally unable to resist asking about the other man’s personal affairs: “By the way, how are the wedding preparations coming along?”

“They are underway.” Fuheng’s face remained expressionless, as though he were discussing someone else’s private matters.

Looking at that wooden, emotionless face, Hongli said lightly: “Achieving top honors on the imperial exam and entering the bridal chamber on the wedding night are among the great joys of life. Yet today I have granted you a real official post and bestowed upon you a beautiful bride—why is there not the slightest trace of joy on your face?”

“Your Majesty’s grace, this servant will never forget in this lifetime.” Though he would not forget, he also felt no joy. Fuheng’s face remained devoid of any happiness—neither joy nor sorrow, like a piece of decayed wood that had lost all its moisture.

Suddenly, Hongli became angry. Because he had seen that very same expression on another person’s face. The two faces overlapped in his vision. Unable to restrain himself, Hongli slammed his fist heavily on the table and roared: “Get out!”

After Fuheng withdrew, Hongli’s mood still had not recovered.

He paced back and forth inside Yangxin Hall for a long time before suddenly stopping. Turning to Li Yu, he said: “Prepare the sedan—I wish to go out for a walk!”

In the depths of winter, the Forbidden City was bitterly cold. Each of the Eastern and Western Six Palaces had its own warming chambers, with heated flues laid beneath the floors. In autumn, the flues had to be cleaned; the palace servants responsible for tending the kang stoves were busy with the task.

Li Yu had originally assumed that when His Majesty said he wanted to “go out for a walk,” he meant the Imperial Garden or perhaps to visit one of the consorts in the rear palace. Who would have expected that, after wandering, he would end up outside at the side of the underground dragon flue. The kang-heating crew was working right there. One eunuch crawled into the tunnel, reached out his hand, and Wei Yingluo hurriedly passed him the cleaning tools. The eunuch took them and continued clearing the accumulated soot from the flue. Dust billowed everywhere, and Wei Yingluo coughed uncontrollably amid the choking clouds.

Hongli watched from the side for a long while before finally stepping forward. In a deep voice he demanded: “Have all the people at the kang-heating station died?”

The moment they saw it was him, the eunuchs at the kang-heating station hurriedly knelt. Those still inside the tunnel scrambled out in haste. The scene instantly became chaotic and disorderly.

Wei Yingluo was also kneeling among them. Besides her, there were several other palace servants from the Cleansing Division. Every year at this time, the charcoal flues had to be cleaned, and the twenty-five eunuchs in the kang-heating department couldn’t manage it alone, so they often requested personnel from the Cleansing Division.

Li Yu followed Hongli’s gaze and, seeing that it was her, immediately understood. Pretending to be surprised, he said, “Oh my, how is it you? The Cleansing Division should at least send a eunuch to do the work—why send a young girl?”

Wei Yingluo kept her head lowered and said nothing. The assignment had been arranged for her by Yuan Chunwang. Because of his prior arrangements, the work was very light—she was only responsible for passing cleaning tools. The rest of the time she rested, which was far more relaxed than in the Cleansing Division, and the injuries on her hands were almost healed.

A pair of bright yellow boots slowly approached her. Hongli’s voice came from above her head, calm and indifferent: “You’ve been in the Cleansing Division for so long. Don’t you want to return to Changchun Palace?”

Having suffered enough hardships under him, Wei Yingluo answered very cautiously: “This servant committed offenses and dares not hope for such favor.”

Her extreme caution only provoked Hongli’s displeasure. He didn’t even know what he was angry about, but his face turned cold as he said, “You can come and beg me!”

Li Yu glanced at him and chimed in: “Yingluo, His Majesty is giving you an opportunity.”

Wei Yingluo didn’t dare take the bait—she feared there was poison inside it.

Hongli stared at her for a long moment, his gaze lingering on her cracked and dry fingertips. Suddenly he said, “The Empress has awakened.”

Wei Yingluo jerked her head up to look at him.

“She has been bedridden for a long time, unable to walk properly, and her mood has been poor. She has become much thinner.” Hongli spoke indifferently. “Wei Yingluo, you received great kindness from the Empress—don’t you want to go back and serve her?”

Wei Yingluo sighed inwardly. Some bait, even when you know it’s poisoned, you still have to force yourself to swallow it. She prostrated herself fully before Hongli and, as he wished, softened her tone: “I beg Your Majesty to show mercy and allow this servant to return to Changchun Palace to serve Her Majesty the Empress!”

Seeing that she had finally taken the bait, Hongli smiled. “I can let you go back. However, you have defied me many times—I cannot let that go unpunished!”

Wei Yingluo answered without the slightest hesitation: “This servant is willing to accept punishment.”

Hongli’s smile deepened: “You have to actually accomplish it first!”

Yingluo raised her head and looked straight into Hongli’s eyes: “If Your Majesty says it, this servant will certainly make it happen!”

Flying snow filled the sky. Unbeknownst to them, winter had already arrived.

White snow blanketed the capital. As far as the eye could see, heaven and earth were one color of white. Yet inside the Fucha residence, everything was a uniform red.

Red firecrackers crackled and popped. Fuheng, dressed in bright red wedding robes, sat in the inner courtyard, staring blankly at the red double-happiness character pasted on the window.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, followed by a laugh: “Brother, what’s wrong?”

Fuheng woke as if from a dream and turned to look at his younger brother: “A-Qian.”

Fuqian was young and handsome, bearing a strong resemblance to Fuheng, though he appeared more delicate, with a hint of scholarly refinement. He smiled: “Brother, tonight is your wedding night—why are you hiding here alone?”

Fuheng said in confusion, “I… I don’t know.”

Fuqian looked at him strangely: “Have you gone silly from happiness? Hurry back—the bride is waiting for you!”

Where in the world is there a paradise untouched by reality? After Fuqian found him, Fuheng was practically pushed all the way back to the bridal chamber. The door closed behind him. His face pale, he looked at everything before him: the red bridal veil, the red wedding robes, the red-clad bride.

The wedding matron brought over a weighing-rod scale and smiled: “Groom, quickly lift the veil.”

Fuheng slowly reached out and took the rod. He had held guns and swords before, yet he never imagined that this small weighing-rod would feel heavier than any gun or sword—he could barely hold it steady.

The rod slipped under the edge of the veil and slowly lifted it, revealing a shy, delicate face beneath.

Erqing had always been beautiful. After careful adornment for the wedding, she was now as radiant as peach and plum blossoms. Any man who saw her would want to taste her sweetness.

Only Fuheng, the moment he saw her, turned even paler.

Erqing kept her head lowered and did not notice the change in his expression. The matchmaker saw it but assumed he was simply overly nervous and did not pay it much mind. She used the bamboo pole already prepared and lifted the red veil up to the eaves, announcing in a loud voice:

“Perfect harmony and satisfaction, rising step by step!”

According to custom, this was the moment Fuheng should sit beside Erqing, yet he remained motionless for a long time, standing there like a wooden statue. The matchmaker had no choice but to go over and remind him:

“Groom, you need to sit here!”

Fuheng started slightly, came back to himself, and—with obvious reluctance—finally sat down next to Erqing.

The matchmaker came forward, overlapped the hems of their robes, and placed them on the kang table. On the table were “descendant dumplings” and longevity noodles. The matchmaker kept up a steady stream of auspicious words:

“Wishing the two of you every joy and fulfillment, blessings and longevity both complete!”

The maids chimed in from all sides:

“Yes, yes—may you soon give birth to a precious son!”

“A hundred years of harmony! Growing old together!”

“Many sons and grandsons! A hundred years of companionship!”

Amid the noisy congratulations, the matchmaker brought over a plate of dumplings:

“Now, eat the dumplings!”

She first took one dumpling and held it to Erqing’s lips. Erqing took a small, gentle bite, leaving a bright rouge-red mark on the snowy-white dumpling. The matchmaker smiled and asked:

“Will you give birth?”

Blushing, Erqing answered softly:

“Yes… yes, I will.”

Everyone clapped and laughed joyfully.

The matchmaker then took the same dumpling to feed Fuheng. Halfway there, Fuheng suddenly stood up, pushed her hand away, and rushed outside.

“Urgh—”

First the dumpling, then all the wine he had drunk earlier—everything in his stomach surged up his throat and poured out. It took a long while before he finally finished vomiting.

When Fuheng braced himself against the wall and slowly straightened up again, the bridal chamber had fallen deathly silent. Everyone stared at him in stunned confusion and bewilderment, unable to understand why he was in such agony.

“Everyone, get out,” Fuheng said hoarsely, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He dismissed them all.

Then he slowly sat down on a chair and looked across at Erqing, who was still seated on the edge of the bed.

Between them lay a distance that felt almost impossible to cross.

After a long silence, Erqing hesitantly ventured, her voice trembling and carrying the trace of a sob:

“Fuheng… are you… regretting it?”

Fuheng froze. The Empress’s warning echoed in his ears:

“Fuheng, I am very afraid… that you will regret this for the rest of your life.”

   Fuheng took a deep breath, as though trying to convince himself:

“No. I don’t regret it.”

Hearing this, Erqing let out a breath of relief and showed a gentle smile:

“I don’t regret it either. Even knowing full well that you love her, I am still willing to marry you! Fuheng, as long as I can become your wife, I am willing to do anything, endure any pain.”

Fuheng understood exactly what she was implying. He sighed, took her hand, and said softly:

“Erqing, from the moment I decided to marry you, I resolved to forget her.”

“Really?” Erqing looked up in delighted surprise, a teardrop glistening at the corner of her eye as she gazed at him with adoration.

“Yes. Since I have married you, I must take responsibility toward you. You are my wife now—the person I will spend my life with…” Fuheng spoke mechanically. He had once used these same words to comfort the Empress; now he used them again to comfort Erqing.

But while such words could deceive others, they could never deceive himself.

After a pause, he said in a low voice:

“It’s just… I still need a little time…”

Erqing raised her hand and gently pressed it to his lips, shaking her head tenderly:

“I understand. I understand everything. It’s all right. As long as you can say those words to me, I am willing to wait—no matter how long it takes. Fuheng, I am willing to wait!”

The same words he had once said to Yingluo…

Fuheng tried hard to suppress the pain in his heart and forced a smile at her. But that smile was as bitter as if he had drunk all the world’s bitterness

“Thank you, Erqing… thank you…”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 94: Awakening

After many days of unconsciousness, Empress Fucha had awakened.

She struggled to climb down from the bed, but she had lain immobile for so long that her limbs were weak and numb. She immediately collapsed to the floor.

“Niangniang!” Ming Yu hurriedly rushed over to support her. “Someone—quick, call the imperial physician!”

The Empress tightly gripped Ming Yu’s hand, her face filled with urgency: “No—call Fuheng. I want to see Fuheng!”

Today Fuheng happened to be on duty in the palace. Upon receiving news of the Empress’s awakening, he rushed to Changchun Palace without a moment’s delay:

“Sister!”

The Empress gave a meaningful glance toward the palace servants in the room. They quietly withdrew. Fuheng stepped to her side and was just about to say something when she suddenly raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.

“…Sister?” Fuheng covered his cheek, looking at her in bewilderment.

“Fuheng, when you spoke in front of me before, I could hear every word—I just couldn’t open my eyes.” The Empress spoke with bitter disappointment, as though scolding someone hopelessly foolish. “You idiot! How could you agree to Erqing’s terms? What are you going to do about Yingluo?”

That name was like a thorn—every mention reopened a bleeding wound. Fuheng lowered his head and said quietly:

“Sister, in that situation, only by agreeing to His Majesty’s bestowed marriage could I save Yingluo.”

The Empress shook her head, unable to accept it: “Given her temperament, she would rather die together with you. Do you realize that from the moment you nodded, Yingluo will never forgive you? Fuheng—can you truly bear the outcome of becoming strangers to her forever?”

Fuheng fell completely silent.

“This is unfair—to you, to Yingluo, and to Erqing!” The Empress understood her younger brother; his silence was itself a wordless refusal. “No matter the cost, I will demand that His Majesty retract the decree!”

“Sister…” Fuheng raised his head to look at her. His lips were bitten until they turned white. With a bitter smile he said, “The imperial edict has already been issued. Erqing has left the palace to prepare for the wedding. There is no room left to turn this back! If you go to beg His Majesty to withdraw the decree, it will bring utter disgrace upon the Fucha family—and it will make it impossible for Erqing to face the world. You would be forcing her to her death! Erqing only agreed to this marriage in order to help me. For the sake of both emotion and duty, I cannot do such a thing!”

This time it was the Empress who fell silent.

People are not made of wood or stone—how can they be without feelings? Yingluo was one of her own close attendants, but Erqing had been too. So many days and nights, so long a bond between master and servant—she could not simply watch the other walk toward death with open eyes.

After a long pause, the Empress let out a deep sigh, her voice filled with sorrow:

“I thought that at least you and Yingluo could find happiness. I never imagined… the ending would be the same.”

Just like herself—she had loved Hongli with her whole heart, yet she had no choice but to share him with countless other women. If Yingluo still wished to be with Fuheng in the future, she would have to do the same: share him with Erqing.

But unlike her own situation, the marriage alliance between the Fucha family and the imperial house was unavoidable—whereas Fuheng and Erqing’s wedding could actually have been avoided. In the end, it was this child’s foolishness that had created today’s irreparable mess.

“Elder sister…” Fuheng looked at her with some concern. “Are you alright?”

Instead of worrying about me, you should worry more about yourself—and about Yingluo! the Empress thought to herself. Then she waved her hand wearily and said, “Leave. I don’t want to see you right now.”

Fuheng hesitated, wanting to speak but holding back for a long moment. Finally he sighed, turned, and began to walk away. Halfway out, the Empress’s voice suddenly rang out behind him:

“Fuheng… I am very afraid. You will regret this decision you made for the rest of your life.”

His footsteps halted. Fuheng lowered his head; his fist clenched tightly, then slowly loosened. At last he said in a low voice:

“…Elder sister, everyone must take responsibility for their own choices. Please forgive me.”

Not long after Fuheng left, Hongli received the news and hurried to Changchun Palace.

“Empress, you’re finally awake!” He had expected to see her smiling face, but when the person on the bed slowly turned toward him, he froze. “…What’s wrong with you?”

After many days of deep sleep, though she had been cared for and Wei Yingluo had tirelessly massaged her hands and feet, the Empress’s body had still grown steadily thinner and more haggard. Her once round, jade-like cheeks had sunken; her jet-black hair spilled across her shoulders. There was a faint, heartbreaking beauty to her—like Xi Shi clutching her heart—evoking pity at first sight.

“Your Majesty, you’ve come.” The Empress slowly turned her gaze toward him, hesitating as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t quite begin.

Recalling that he had just passed Fuheng in the corridor, Hongli already understood something. The joy gradually faded from his face. He said coolly:

“Empress, is there something you wish to say to me?”

Having been husband and wife for so many years, the Empress knew his temperament well. She could tell he was already angry, yet she still spoke her mind without fear:

“If I were to make a request, would Your Majesty be willing to cancel the marriage between Fuheng and Erqing?”

Hongli answered decisively: “Impossible!”

Though she had already anticipated that answer, hearing it from his own lips still filled her with disappointment. It was as if her body had been hollowed out in an instant. She closed her eyes, leaned back against the pillow, and said:

“If it cannot be done, then I have nothing more to say.”

Seeing her cold, indifferent expression, Hongli felt deeply uncomfortable—even a little wronged. He frowned:

“Empress, I don’t understand. Erqing is dignified and proper, intelligent and graceful. Her grandfather is the Minister of Justice. I even raised her entire family’s banner. Whether in status or character, she is hardly beneath Fuheng. Everyone is delighted—why are you the only one frowning?”

“Everyone is delighted?” The Empress found it somewhat amusing and actually let out a small laugh. “Your Majesty, is that really what you believe?”

Hongli forced himself to remain calm: “Is it not?”

The Empress stared at him, her gaze seeming to pierce through the majestic exterior of the Son of Heaven to the heart of an ordinary man hidden beneath:

“You are the ruler of all under Heaven. Every word you speak is golden and jade, and no one dares disobey. But I have accompanied you for many years—may I ask just one question: why must you tear apart Fuheng and the woman he truly loves?”

Under that gaze, Hongli actually felt a flicker of panic, though his face remained composed:

“I have said it many times—she is not worthy!”

The Empress slowly shook her head: “Worthy or not, Fuheng doesn’t care. Why does Your Majesty insist on minding it?”

“When marrying a wife, one marries virtue. Fuheng is a pillar I have personally chosen—he will be entrusted with great responsibilities in the future. His wife absolutely cannot harbor ulterior motives or be full of cunning schemes!” Hongli said through gritted teeth. “I am protecting him—keeping him from being bewitched by a venomous woman and making the greatest mistake of his life!”

The Empress was first stunned, then she looked him up and down for a long moment. Suddenly she burst into laughter—laughing so hard she rocked back and forth, unable to stop.

“Empress,” Hongli said coldly, face darkening, “what are you laughing at?”

The Empress abruptly stopped laughing. She looked at him and said, very calmly:

“Your Majesty, are you truly certain that your insistence on breaking this marriage has no personal motive?”

Compared to her calm, Hongli’s heart was in far greater turmoil—as though some secret… a secret even he himself was unaware of… was about to rise to the surface.

“What personal motive could I possibly have?” he forced out.

“Is it not because…” The Empress stared straight into his eyes, “…Your Majesty has taken a liking to Wei Yingluo yourself and wishes to possess her?”

Hongli was stunned. Then he threw his head back and laughed loudly:

“Empress, you’ve been unconscious too long—your mind isn’t clear anymore! Let me tell you, this is your delusion, your hallucination!”

If this really were the Empress’s delusion or hallucination, why would he need to flee in such panic?

   Hongli retreated all the way to the main gate. Still unwilling to accept it, he turned back and shouted—as if trying to convince her, or perhaps even more to convince himself:

“This is absolutely impossible!”

The door slammed shut with a thud. Ming Yu entered carrying a bowl of rice porridge, her face filled with worry: “Your Majesty…”

The Empress sat motionless on the bed, a single line of tears slowly sliding down from the corner of her eye.

“Your Majesty, please don’t be sad…” Ming Yu’s feelings were complicated; she truly didn’t know where to begin comforting her.

“The Emperor possesses the entire realm—what kind of woman can’t he obtain? Why does it have to be Yingluo?” The Empress wept blankly. “Can’t he just let her go… let Fuheng go?”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 93: Rupture

   Between adults, there is no such thing as selfless giving.

   Every act of giving is made in expectation of return.

   “With Her Majesty the Empress unconscious and unable to speak, the only two people whose words carry weight in the rear palace right now are you and her.” Yuhu thought for a moment and said, “This time, rather than saying she did you a favor, it would be more accurate to say… she now has a leash on you.”

Consort Chun sighed. “Exactly. I only have myself to blame for being too impatient and handing her such a huge bargaining chip.”

Yuhu looked at her with pity: “Your Ladyship, she was merely a servant from the Cleansing Division. Why go to such great lengths to deal with her?”

“To you, Wei Yingluo is just a servant from the Cleansing Division.” Consort Chun’s smile was dazed and distant. “But to Fuheng… she is not…”

Though she possessed peerless beauty, in the eyes of most people Consort Chun had very little presence. She always stayed quietly by the Empress’s side, like a shadow. Whatever the Empress approved of, she approved of; whatever the Empress opposed, she opposed as well.

   She was always giving to the Empress, never asking for anything in return.

   Even after the Empress fell into a coma, she continued to diligently guard Changchun Palace on her behalf.

   “Consort Chun is truly a saint.”

That was how some people privately described her.

No, she was no saint.

A saint would not have done what she did a few days earlier—upon receiving the news, rushing in a panic to find Fuheng and demand: “Fuheng, the Imperial Guard—why are you marrying Erqing?”

Fuheng was momentarily stunned before replying, “It is His Majesty’s decree.”

“No!” Consort Chun cut straight through. “You agreed to this marriage only to save Wei Yingluo, to clear her name! Fuheng, have you lost your mind? Is a lowly Cleansing Division slave worth all this from you?”

Fuheng’s expression instantly turned cold. “This is my personal affair. There is no need for Your Ladyship to concern yourself.”

“How can you speak to me like that?” Consort Chun, frantic, reached to grasp his hand. “You know very well that I…”

Fuheng hurriedly stepped back to avoid her touch. “Your Ladyship, please conduct yourself with propriety.”

“Conduct myself with propriety?” Consort Chun froze, her face filled with indescribable desolation. “You never used to speak to me this way…”

Used to? Fuheng had no memory of any past between them, any entanglement. He took another step back, maintaining a safe distance between man and woman, and said with faint wariness: “Consort Chun, please be careful with your words. Though you are my elder sister’s close friend, there are proprieties between men and women. I and Your Ladyship have never been close…”

His words came from good intentions—a gentle reminder for her to watch her speech. Otherwise, if others overheard, misunderstandings would surely arise.

Unexpectedly, this kind intention, when it reached Consort Chun’s ears, caused her face to turn deathly pale in an instant.

“Never been close…” Consort Chun swayed unsteadily for a moment, then her gaze suddenly dropped to the tassel hanging at his waist. “If you have no place for me in your heart, why do you still wear the tassel I wove with my own hands?”

Fuheng was stunned. His eyes followed hers downward. At his waist hung a jade pendant he had worn since childhood, and the tassel attached to it was already quite old and worn. Frowning slightly, Fuheng said, “Wasn’t this given to me by my sister?”

“How could it be from your sister?” Consort Chun hurriedly replied. “It was me… That day you weren’t there, and your military book was left on the stone table in the courtyard. I slipped the tassel inside it…”

Her voice abruptly stopped.

Right before her eyes, Fuheng reached down, yanked the tassel off, and placed it on the corridor chair beside him. His tone was calm and indifferent: “So that’s how it was. I misunderstood and thought it was something my sister made, so I kept wearing it all this time. Today I return it to its rightful owner. Your Ladyship, I take my leave.”

The memory ended there.

“Your Ladyship…” Yuhu looked at her cautiously. “Are you… alright?”

Consort Chun slowly opened her eyes, tears blurring her vision. She drew an old, faded tassel from her bosom and held it out for Yuhu to see: “Yuhu, do you still remember this?”

Yuhu’s face changed the moment she saw it.

“I was afraid he would accept the tassel without knowing who sent it or what the giver’s feelings were, so I had you deliver a letter to him.” Consort Chun stared at her. “That letter… did you deliver it?”

Yuhu hesitated for a moment, then suddenly knelt down before her.

The answer was obvious. Consort Chun’s shoulders began to tremble. Suddenly she raised her hand and slapped Yuhu across the face: “Fine, fine! So this is how you serve me—you’ve caused me such misery!”

“Your Ladyship!” Yuhu covered her face and sobbed. “This servant did it for your own good!”

“For my own good?” Consort Chun let out a bitter laugh; tears streamed down both cheeks. “All this time I believed that since he accepted the tassel, he must have feelings for me! I thought he only acted distant because I had entered Prince Bao’s household and become a mistress in the mansion. But in truth… that letter confessing my feelings never reached his hands! For my own good… you still dare to say it was for my own good?”

“Your Ladyship, the master said long ago that you were to be offered to Prince Bao—you were destined to enter the prince’s mansion!” Yuhu cried miserably. “If that letter had really been delivered, it would have completely ruined you and destroyed the entire Su family!”

“In the end, it was still for the sake of the Su family.” Consort Chun smiled self-mockingly. “So you just stood by and watched me sink deeper and deeper, lying to myself over and over, until in front of him I lost even the last shred of my dignity!”

Yuhu had been born into servitude in the Su household; her parents and siblings all worked for the Su family, so naturally her loyalty lay with the family. But she could never admit that outright—otherwise how could she ever face Consort Chun again? She hurriedly defended herself: “Your Ladyship, you were infatuated with Fucha Fuheng and resisted entering the mansion with all your might—even threatening death! It was only after you learned that the eldest young lady Fucha was to become the Fujin that you finally agreed to enter the household! You said you would take her place in guarding and protecting her for Fuheng! This servant saw you finally pull yourself together—how could I bear to tell you the truth?”

Hearing this, Consort Chun began to laugh—laughing at her own infatuation, at the absurdity of half her life.

“I only wished that your heart would be like mine, and that I would never be disappointed in my longing…” I saw him always wearing that tassel and thought he harbored at least a little affection for me. I didn’t ask for much—just that he keep wearing that tassel at his waist. For that alone I was willing to give everything: to be a shadow for his sister, to protect her, even to avoid favor deliberately. And in the end, what did I get?” Consort Chun wept. “He said, ‘You and I have never been close…’”

All her devotion had been one-sided.

Her deep affection had become nothing more than a joke.

“A pure heart like ice in a Yuhu.” Yuhu crawled closer and gently tugged at the hem of her skirt. “You gave this servant that name yourself. A servant’s name can be changed easily, but Your Ladyship—this pure heart of yours has never been cherished by anyone. It is my fault that I kept you in the dark for ten whole years. Now… it’s time for you to wake up.”

Consort Chun remained silent for a long while.

In the rhombus-shaped mirror was reflected her profile. In terms of beauty, she was hardly inferior to Noble Consort Hui. Like spring orchids and autumn chrysanthemums, like Yang Guifei or Zhao Feiyan—Consort Chun’s beauty lay in her fragile, pitiable air: like Xi Shi clutching her heart in pain, or Daiyu burying flowers. She inspired pity in men at first sight; they couldn’t help wanting to reach out, smooth away her furrowed brows, and coax a single smile from her.

That was why, even though she deliberately avoided favor, she still attained the rank of consort.

“What if a person like her were willing to deliberately compete for favor?”

“I was originally the Empress’s person, but now… I can only break off with her.” Consort Chun sighed in front of the mirror. “After so many years of devotion, I can’t possibly receive not even the slightest reward, can I?”

With that, she turned back to Yuhu and smiled—her heart had turned to ashes, yet a faint spark of hatred reignited in it: “…Presumably, this is exactly what Noble Consort Xian wanted.”

Sisters of yesterday had become enemies in the blink of an eye.

   Love for so many years meant hatred for just as many.

   “No… no… NO!”

Inside Changchun Palace, a sharp scream erupted from the sleeping chamber.

Footsteps rushed in chaos. A group of palace servants burst through the door. Leading them was the senior palace maid Ming Yu, still holding a basin of water in her hands. When she saw the scene inside the room, she let out a cry—the basin slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor. Overcome with joy and shock, her words tumbled out incoherently:

“Your Lady… Niangniang is awake! Someone! Someone come—Niangniang is awake! Wait—Niangniang, what are you doing?”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 92: First and Last

   Yuan Chunwang saying he would protect Wei Yingluo was not just empty words.

Thanks to his outstanding performance during the disaster relief efforts, he had gained the appreciation of Noble Consort Xian. Now, with the Empress in a coma and Noble Consort Hui deceased, the entire power of the rear palace was in Noble Consort Xian’s hands. If Noble Consort Xian wanted to promote him, he was promoted immediately. Within the Cleansing Division, his word was law—he said one and it was one, said two and it was two.

“Look at your hands—they don’t even look like a girl’s anymore.” Yuan Chunwang took Wei Yingluo’s hand and shook his head. “From now on, stop scrubbing the night-soil buckets. Go help out at the kang-heating department first.”

Yingluo: “The kang-heating department?”

“The kang-heating department is under the Firewood Office and is in charge of supplying heat to the various palaces. But the Forbidden City only starts supplying charcoal after winter sets in. Right now the weather is still warm, so their workload is light. You can take the chance to rest a bit.” Yuan Chunwang lightly tapped her forehead with a flick of his finger. “Don’t be so honest all the time—you have to learn how to slack off a little!”

Wei Yingluo touched her forehead, touched by his care for her, yet annoyed by his overly familiar intimacy in front of others: “Okay, okay, I remember!”

Watching her leave, Yuan Chunwang smiled and shook his head. Just as he was about to go, a hand from behind grabbed his sleeve: “Brother Yuan!”

It was Jinxiu’s voice.

Yuan Chunwang frowned and was about to pull his sleeve back and leave when he heard her lower her voice: “I know who killed Noble Consort Hui!”

Yuan Chunwang’s footsteps paused.

Jinxiu gave a charming smile, smoothly wrapped her arm around his, pressing her full chest against him, and whispered: “Tonight at the hour of Zi (11 p.m.–1 a.m.), I’ll wait for you by the well in the rear courtyard. Don’t stand me up!”

That night, Jinxiu specially dressed up and did her makeup. With no jewelry to wear, she quietly broke off a camellia from a tree, carefully tucked it behind her ear, then gazed at her reflection in the well with self-pity.

The well reflected her face—and also the face of the person standing behind her.

A look of delight appeared on Jinxiu’s face. She turned and threw herself into his arms: “Brother Yuan, you came!”

Yuan Chunwang let her hold him and laughed softly: “The words you said to me this morning—what did you mean by them?”

Seeing his smile, Jinxiu was overjoyed. She lightly pounded his chest: “Brother Yuan, it’s so rare for us to be alone together, and that’s the only question you want to ask me?”

Yuan Chunwang took hold of her hand. His voice was gentle, full of seduction: “Be good, tell me.”

He had never spoken to her so kindly before. In her delight, Jinxiu completely lost herself and obediently answered: “Alright, I’ll tell you. That day I personally saw Wei Yingluo together with a craftsman from the ‘Ten Thousand Purples and Thousands of Reds’ workshop!”

Yuan Chunwang’s gaze darkened: “Oh? And what of it?”

“What else could it mean?” Jinxiu laughed. “The murderer who killed Noble Consort Hui has never been found. If it wasn’t one of the craftsmen, then it must have been someone inside the palace. Tell me—doesn’t she seem suspicious?”

“If she’s so suspicious, why didn’t you go report her?” As soon as Yuan Chunwang finished speaking, he shook his head. “You and Yingluo have long had bad blood, and you have no evidence. Even if you said it, no one would believe you.”

Jinxiu smiled and said, “Yes! I know that words coming from my mouth are hard for people to believe, so I’ve held back for a long time. But then I thought—if others won’t believe me, there’s still the Gao family! Noble Consort Hui’s own elder brother has been investigating the cause of her death all along!”

Sensing the threat hidden in her words, Yuan Chunwang withdrew the false warmth from his face and stared at her coldly. “What do you want?”

Jinxiu wrapped her arms around him, pressing her curvaceous body tightly against his, and said with a smile, “Brother Yuan, I know you’re Wei Yingluo’s sworn brother. You’ll definitely protect her, won’t you?”

Yuan Chunwang replied indifferently, “So?”

Jinxiu said softly and seductively, “As long as you promise to be with me from now on, I’ll keep this secret for her!”

Yuan Chunwang laughed, as though he had long anticipated she would say this, or perhaps he was simply mocking her overconfidence:

“Are you actually crazy or just pretending? Palace regulations strictly forbid palace maids and eunuchs from forming illicit relationships—those who violate the rule face severe punishment. And yet you dare make such a demand?”

“Palace rules forbid it, but they’ve never stopped it,” Jinxiu said dismissively. “Go take a look—how many palace maids and eunuchs have secretly become husband and wife? Brother Yuan, I just like you. I want to be with you. I promise I’ll treat you better than Wei Yingluo ever could!”

“Why do you like me?” Yuan Chunwang looked at her with a strange expression, as if he had finally been persuaded by her words. “I heard from Yingluo that you used to chase after the imperial guards. Compared to them, I truly have nothing.”

He had never shown her any warmth; occasionally granting her a single glance was enough to make her savor it for an entire day. Seeing a hint of softening in his tone, Jinxiu was overjoyed—her voice even trembled with excitement:

“I admit it! In the past I was vain and greedy for glory, always dreaming of climbing high branches and marrying into a noble family! But ever since I came to the Cleansing Division, I’ve changed—I really have changed! Especially the first time I saw you, I finally understood what it means to truly like someone. Everything I used to chase after no longer matters to me! Brother Yuan, I want to stay by your side, like an ordinary husband and wife among the common people—taking care of each other our whole lives, never leaving, never abandoning one another. Will you?”

“Take care of each other, never leave, never abandon?” Yuan Chunwang murmured to himself.

“Yes!” Jinxiu threw herself into his arms, speaking with deep emotion, “As long as you promise me, I won’t say a word. I won’t tell anyone! I can even forgive everything Wei Yingluo has done. As long as I can have you, nothing else matters to me!”

Yuan Chunwang lowered his head to look at her, then suddenly gave a dazzling smile. “Do you really love me that much?”

It was probably the most beautiful smile Jinxiu had ever seen in her life—beautiful enough to make her throw herself into the flame like a moth. She stared at him in a daze for a long time before finally nodding and softly answering, “Mhm!”

The next moment, her expression froze. Slowly, she lowered her head.

A dagger had pierced through her chest, sinking deep into her heart.

Jinxiu followed the blade with her eyes—down to the hilt, to the hand holding it, to Yuan Chunwang’s face. He was smiling at her, gentle and exquisitely beautiful: “Since you love me so much… are you willing to die for me?”

Jinxiu opened her mouth, wanting to answer him—Yes.

But Yuan Chunwang didn’t wait for her to speak. With one push, he sent her tumbling backward into the well behind her.

With a splash, the moon reflected in the water shattered into countless fragments.

Yuan Chunwang stood by the edge of the well, drawing out a handkerchief and calmly wiping the blood from his fingers.

“I forgot to tell you one thing,” he said with a faint smile, then let go. The handkerchief fluttered lightly down into the well, covering the face that was slowly sinking and rising in the water. “I hate being threatened the most.”

The next day.

   “An announcement,” Yuan Chunwang said to the palace maids and eunuchs gathered in the inner courtyard of the Cleansing Division. “Palace maid Jinxiu fled privately last night.”

An uproar erupted; voices rose in discussion.

“Fled? Jinxiu actually ran away?”

“This is the heavily guarded Forbidden City—where could she possibly go?”

“This girl really has guts the size of the sky—she’s not afraid of dying?!”

Wei Yingluo did not join in the crowd’s discussion. She frowned and turned her gaze toward Yuan Chunwang.

“Anyone who has information about Jinxiu must report it immediately. Otherwise, they will be punished as an accomplice!” Yuan Chunwang said calmly. “Enough, stop talking about this. Everyone, get back to work!”

After the crowd dispersed, Wei Yingluo quietly approached him.

“Brother, where did Jinxiu go?”

“How would I know where she went?” Yuan Chunwang smiled at her.

Wei Yingluo clearly didn’t believe he knew nothing. She stared at him and said,

“If she wanted to run away, how could there be no sign at all? Besides, the Forbidden City is heavily guarded layer upon layer. She didn’t grow wings—where could she possibly go?”

Yuan Chunwang reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Did you take today’s medicine?”

“Brother, don’t change the subject!” Wei Yingluo frowned. “I’m asking you a question!”

“An unimportant person isn’t worth keeping in your heart.” Yuan Chunwang smiled. “Did you take the medicine? Stretch out your hand—let me see how well the injury is healing.”

The weather was hot, yet Wei Yingluo suddenly felt a chill run down her back.

A human life, in his eyes, was worth less than a single scar on her hand.

There was never a shortage of work in the Cleansing Division. Wei Yingluo tried probing him indirectly a few more times, but seeing she wouldn’t get an answer, she had no choice but to return to her tasks first.

Once she left, the smile faded from Yuan Chunwang’s face and he fell into deep thought.

He knew Wei Yingluo had grown suspicious, but so what? He had handled everything cleanly from beginning to end—he wasn’t afraid of being discovered. And even if someone did find out, who would dare offend him—a major favorite in front of Noble Consort Xian—just for the sake of one criminal from the Cleansing Division?

“The one who framed Yingluo and caused her to be imprisoned… it must have been Jinxiu without a doubt,” Yuan Chunwang thought with a frown. “She had a grudge against Yingluo, but what about Momo Liu? Momo Liu had no enmity or grudge against Yingluo—why would she join Jinxiu in framing her? Was she deceived by Jinxiu… or was there someone behind her… giving her orders?”

If there really was another mastermind behind the scenes, then right now… that person was probably doing the same thing he had done: cleaning up all the loose ends.

Inside Zhongcui Palace, blood covered the floor.

   The blood was flowing from Momo Liu’s fingers—every single one of her ten fingernails had been torn out, leaving the bare fingertips gushing fresh blood.

Noble Consort Xian smiled faintly.

“Consort Chun, my dear sister, this old servant really can’t withstand much. After just a few strokes of the cane, she started talking. Would sister like to know what she said?”

Momo Liu, having suffered brutal torture, was already mentally dazed. She remained silent for a long while, then suddenly burst into loud sobs. Crawling on hands and knees, she threw herself toward Consort Chun.

“Your Ladyship! Your Ladyship, save this old servant…!”

Consort Chun took a step back. Her palace maid Yuhu immediately kicked Momo Liu away and hurriedly said,

“What nonsense are you babbling? When has our Ladyship ever had any connection with an old thing like you?”

Hearing this, Momo Liu tore at her heart and lungs, crying out,

“Yuhu, don’t you dare deny it! It was clearly Consort Chun who ordered me… ordered me to go frame Wei Yingluo!”

“Nonsense!” Yuhu gritted her teeth. “Our Ladyship had no grudge against that palace maid—why would she frame her? You—you were obviously instructed by someone else and are trying to drag our Ladyship down with you!”

A palace servant brought tea. Noble Consort Xian sat in her chair, leisurely taking a sip.

“Consort Chun, what do you say?”

Consort Chun’s face had gone somewhat pale.

“This is slander…”

“What slander? Your Ladyship, listen to me!”

Seeing that Consort Chun was turning cold and refusing to acknowledge her, Momo Liu decided that if you show no mercy, neither will I. She spilled everything—how Consort Chun had approached her, how she arranged for her to plant false evidence and frame the girl, the whole cause and effect, in exhaustive detail without the slightest omission.

In the face of the truth, Consort Chun’s denials appeared utterly feeble and powerless. Her body swayed and she leaned against Yuhu for support.

Just when she thought she was finished, Noble Consort Xian set down her teacup and spoke slowly and deliberately:

“Consort Chun, my dear sister, is someone I trust completely. How could I allow such an insolent old slave to behave so wantonly? Someone—cut out this old servant’s tongue!”

Momo Liu could never have imagined that her full confession would lead to this fate. Amid her blood-curdling scream, a bright red tongue was snipped off with golden scissors.

Looking at that tongue, cold sweat poured down Consort Chun’s back. She nearly fainted alongside Momo Liu.

“To deal with this kind of loose-tongued, backstabbing slave who dares to bite and frame her master, she must be dealt with severely as a warning to others. With her as an example, in the future, far fewer people will dare to commit insubordination or casually slander their superiors.”

Noble Consort Xian stepped forward and took her hand, speaking softly, “Oh dear, sister, why are your hands so icy cold…?”

Because your smile makes my back run cold.

   Keeping her true thoughts hidden deep in her heart, Consort Chun trembled as she replied with quivering lips, “My health hasn’t been good lately. I must have caught a chill…”

“Sister has always been frail and sensitive to cold—you really must take good care of yourself.” Noble Consort Xian patted her hand again, left behind a few more words of concern, then ordered the servants to drag Momo Liu away.

A trail of blood twisted and snaked behind her on the floor.

Only then did Consort Chun let out a long breath. She suddenly collapsed onto the couch, soft and boneless. After a long while she finally spoke: “Yuhu, why do you think Noble Consort Xian stepped in to clean up the mess for me?”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 91: Hatred and Ruthlessness

   “Father!” Seven-year-old Yuan Chunwang cried, “Don’t leave me behind!”

The road stretched endlessly ahead, filled with an equally endless stream of refugees. Some could still walk; others had collapsed by the roadside, never to rise again.

The ground was a sickly yellow, without a trace of green. Even the grass roots buried deep in the soil had been dug up and eaten. When hunger reached its extreme, people turned into beasts. Several refugees staggered toward Yuan Chunwang, drool spilling from their mouths—as if what stood before them was not a child, but a tender, white lamb.

Just as Yuan Chunwang was paralyzed with terror, a gaunt, skeletal woman suddenly rushed out from behind them, scooped him up, and ran.

“Mother!” Yuan Chunwang clung to her neck and sobbed.

“You… why did you bring him back again?” a similarly emaciated man sighed. “We can barely keep ourselves alive—how can we take care of him too?”

Along the way, the man secretly abandoned him five times, but each time the woman found him and carried him back. Kindness received no reward. In the end, the man slipped away alone. The woman, clutching the boy, stumbled and staggered all the way to the capital—only to catch an epidemic. On her deathbed, she gripped his hand and said,

“After I die, go find your real father.”

Yuan Chunwang was stunned. “Real father?”

“I’m not your real mother either.” The woman coughed twice. “Back then, the Emperor Yongzheng was being pursued and hid in a farmer’s house. He had you with the daughter of that family… Child, you are not an ordinary person. You are an imperial prince!”

Yuan Chunwang was so shocked he couldn’t speak.

“Your poor birth mother had a bitter fate. After the Emperor Yongzheng returned, he never sent anyone to look for her. A woman alone with a child—how could she remarry? So she gave you to me.” With trembling fingers, the woman took out a string of sandalwood Buddhist prayer beads from her bosom and slowly slipped it onto Yuan Chunwang’s wrist. “Take this with you. Go find your birth father and let him…”

Before she could finish, her hand fell limp.

“Mother!” Yuan Chunwang pushed her, but she didn’t move. No matter how he cried or called, she never opened her eyes again.

Afraid that starving refugees would eat his foster mother’s body, the young Yuan Chunwang used his two small, bleeding hands to dig a shallow grave in the earth and buried her.

Afterward, with both hands dripping blood, he walked through the city gates.

The city gates were easy to enter, but the gates of the Forbidden City were hard to pass through. After enduring countless hardships, he finally found a richly dressed Noble Lady who agreed to send him into the palace.

But who would have thought—that person was actually his eighth uncle. After losing the struggle for the throne against Yongzheng and harboring deep resentment ever since, upon discovering that his rival had left behind an illegitimate son in the folk, for some dark and twisted reason, he had this nearly seven-year-old child sent to the cleansing chamber. With one swift stroke of the knife, Yuan Chunwang went from being a little prince to a little eunuch.

After that, he was assigned to the Princess Academy to serve his half-brother—Eighth Prince Fuhui.

Not only had Yuan Chunwang lost his manhood, he had also lost that string of rosewood prayer beads. Without this token of identity, he could no longer reveal the truth to Yongzheng. Then again… even if he still had the prayer beads in his hand, would Yongzheng ever acknowledge a little eunuch as his son?

He could only remain in the humble role of a servant, quietly standing by the side, watching with full envy as Yongzheng held Fu Hui in his arms and patiently guided his hand to write characters.

“I don’t want to write anymore!” Fu Hui petulantly tossed the brush aside. “Imperial Father, I want to ride a horse!”

With that, he scrambled down from Yongzheng’s lap and ran in front of Yuan Chunwang, pointing at him and ordering: “Quick, squat down—I want to ride a horse!”

Yuan Chunwang froze for a moment. The senior eunuch behind him immediately forced him down to the ground without a word: “The Eighth Prince wants to ride—didn’t you hear him? Get down!”

Why should I? I am the Emperor’s son—am I not also the Emperor’s son? A surge of rage rose in Yuan Chunwang’s heart. Just as he was about to stand up, he felt a weight on his back—Fu Hui had already climbed onto him.

Fu Hui laughed and shouted excitedly: “Imperial Father, look—your son is riding a horse! Giddy-up! Giddy-up! Faster! Faster!” Yongzheng burst into hearty laughter: “Fu Hui, be careful—don’t fall!”

Yuan Chunwang gritted his teeth and crawled forward on the ground, deeply lowering his head so they wouldn’t see the pain and hatred twisting across his face.

As Yongzheng’s most beloved son, Fu Hui lived freely and without restraint. Day after day he treated Yuan Chunwang like a horse to ride, growing accustomed to his silent obedience—so accustomed that he came to believe real horses shared the same temperament. As a result, during one riding lesson, he fell off.

“How are you all taking care of the Eighth Prince? A bunch of useless trash!” Yongzheng roared with fury inside the Prince Academy, pointing at the palace maids and eunuchs kneeling on the ground. “Drag them out—thirty heavy strokes each!”

Yuan Chunwang was among them.

Thwack, thwack, thwack—the rods struck flesh. All around came cries of pain, yet he clenched his fists tightly and endured in utter silence.

That night, Yuan Chunwang limped into Fu Hui’s chamber. His gaze fixed blankly on the sleeping boy in the bed. Then he slowly broke into a smile.

Since his foster mother’s death, he had not smiled once.

Today was the first time he smiled—a dazzling, venomous smile, like a brightly patterned poisonous snake being born amid the schemes and cruelty of the Forbidden City. Then, without a sound, he walked to the window and flung it open. The biting winter wind rushed in. Behind him, Fu Hui gave a small cough.

Still smiling, Yuan Chunwang went around and opened every single window in the sleeping chamber…

“After Fu Hui died of illness, all of us who served him were punished and sent to the Cleansing Division.” In the dim storeroom, the candle flame flickered weakly; the candle had already burned down halfway, casting unsteady shadows. Yuan Chunwang gently stroked Wei Yingluo’s hair and murmured, “I don’t regret it. I only feel hatred.”

Hatred toward his eighth uncle—who, after failing in the succession struggle, vented all his bitterness on a child not yet seven years old.

   Hatred toward Yongzheng—who had his own flesh and blood standing right before him, yet remained blind to it.

   Hatred toward Fu Hui—though they shared the same blood as brothers, he forced him to live like an ox or a horse.

   “…What I hate most is this ridiculous world.” Yuan Chunwang suddenly let out a low, bitter laugh, the sound heavy with lingering gloom. “What did I do wrong? Why did every misfortune have to fall on me? We are close blood brothers, yet they stand high above while I crawl on the ground, reduced to the lowest, most despicable slave in the world!”

A single tear slipped from the corner of Wei Yingluo’s eye.

In truth, she had woken up midway through his story. She had kept her eyes closed, quietly listening to Yuan Chunwang reveal a past no one else knew.

“Yingluo, Heaven’s way is unjust, the world is heartless. If you don’t want to become fish on someone else’s chopping block, you can only hold the knife and board yourself!” Yuan Chunwang lowered his head to look at her and gave a gentle smile. “But don’t be afraid. Big brother will protect you—because you are me, and I am you. In this world, only you and I share the same misery, and only you and I can warm each other, pity each other.”

After saying this, he lowered his head and softly kissed away the teardrop on her face.

Wei Yingluo was startled.

She hadn’t opened her eyes before, and now she was even less willing to open them.

She could only continue pretending to be asleep, letting the other person press his lips against her eye. That cold pair of lips gradually took on the warmth of her tears.

Little did she know that Jinxiu had come searching for the warehouse and, by sheer coincidence, witnessed this exact scene. She froze at the doorway, her eyes surging with barely suppressible jealousy and hatred…

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