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

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

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

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

Until a cloak gently settled over his shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuheng was stunned by her words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next day, Changchun Palace.

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

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

White smoke curled upward, drifting past the painting.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuheng lowered his head to look at his clothes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is your name?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inside the side hall, there was complete silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

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

Xiaoquanzi was an accomplished thief.

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

If he could sell, naturally he could also buy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wei Yingluo waved her hand, dismissing him.

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

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

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

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

   …

“Damn it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuheng belonged to the latter kind.

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

The bookshelf immediately fell silent again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The steward: “Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?” Fuheng asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Erqing’s expression grew somewhat unnatural.

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad.”

His footsteps halted. Fuheng turned back in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hearing these words, Erqing finally began to waver.

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

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

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

That night, Fuheng returned to his study.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuheng laughed.

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

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

Erqing was stunned by his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 131: Stolen Goods

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But on second thought, that seemed impossible.

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

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

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

Here it comes!

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

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

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

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

Hongli burst out laughing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lotus curtains warmed; the night stretched until dawn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Empress Dowager smiled and nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Subtle barbs, half belief and half disbelief.

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

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

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

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 130: Jiangnan Melody

   Why can’t it be you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After she finished, she cautiously looked toward Wei Yingluo.

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

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

“Again.”

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

“Again.”

“Dear guest…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Empress Dowager asked curiously: “How so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wei Yingluo was momentarily stunned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ming Yu froze and looked anxiously toward the sleeping chamber.

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

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

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

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

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

And that was only natural.

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

—it all depended on what she did next.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 129: The Thief

When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter.

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

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

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

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

Thud!

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

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

Ming Yu spat in disgust.

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

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

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

“This…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ming Yu, you were looking for me?”

At the Imperial Guard Station, Hailancha hurried out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ming Yu was stunned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wei Yingluo’s eyes—

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 128: Misunderstanding

   The Emperor’s favor was directly tied to the treatment each palace received.

Ever since Hongli stopped visiting Yanxi Palace, supplies of food, clothing, and daily necessities immediately became tight. It wasn’t to the point of starvation, but the dishes served were unappetizing and often not fresh. As for the daily snacks and pastries, they disappeared entirely.

Half a month later, things in the palace even began to go missing. In just a few days, Wei Yingluo lost several earrings and jade bracelets. Ming Yu flew into a rage over it and complained to her: “This life is truly unbearable now. People outside dare to give our palace the cold shoulder, and people inside dare to steal from us. When I find out who it is, I’ll skin them alive!”

But these were small matters. After venting for a while, Ming Yu said worriedly: “Yingluo, do you think… His Majesty really believes the rumors and that’s why he’s not coming to Changchun Palace anymore?”

“What else could it be?” Wei Yingluo was gently waving her beauty-round fan. Suddenly her hand stilled, and she looked toward someone not far away.

Following her gaze, Ming Yu cried out in alarm: “Lord Fucha…”

Somehow, Fuheng had slipped into the Imperial Garden and come close to where they were standing. The years had sharpened his features; the air of a noble young master had faded from him, replaced by the weathered ruggedness of a battlefield general. He stood utterly out of place amid the palace’s refined splendor—one side filled with music and dance, the other carrying the scent of blood on long spears.

Ming Yu immediately grabbed Wei Yingluo’s arm, staring warily at him, and said urgently: “Your Ladyship, we’ve been out here long enough. Let’s go back quickly!”

It is said that rumors stop with the wise, but the world has always been short on wise people.

There are far more who believe blindly and follow blindly, and plenty more who fan the flames. Ming Yu was terrified that someone might see them and cause the already blazing rumors to burn even hotter. She almost wanted to hoist Yingluo onto her back and run.

But Wei Yingluo shook her head, refusing her kindness.

“Whether I leave or stay, the result will be the same,” she said. “If I don’t leave, people will say we have a secret affair. If I do leave, they’ll say I’m guilty and panicking. Do you understand?”

Those who harbor malice toward her will find malice no matter what she does.

The one spreading rumors behind her back would not stop just because she had left.

“Yingluo.” Fuheng had already walked over from the opposite side and was gazing deeply at her. “I have something to say to you.”

As it happened, she also had something to say to him. Wei Yingluo smiled slightly. “Let’s talk over there.”

She found a pavilion nestled beside a wisteria tree, its branches heavy with luxuriant purple blossoms cascading downward. Wei Yingluo sat inside the pavilion. Under Ming Yu’s openly warning glare, Fuheng did not sit; he merely stood not far from her and asked, “Why?”

A question without preamble, yet Wei Yingluo answered directly: “I didn’t want to remain a palace maid any longer.”

Fuheng was silent for a long moment before speaking in a hoarse voice: “Why didn’t you wait for me to return? I could have—”

“Become your concubine?” Wei Yingluo said with mockery. “No. If I’m going to be a concubine either way, why shouldn’t I become His Majesty’s? At least then I would rank above others. When I sit, you can only stand.”

Fuheng stared at her for a very long time, then shook his head. “Yingluo, you don’t need to say such things to anger me. I know what kind of person you are…”

Hearing those words, Wei Yingluo said nothing, but Ming Yu’s eyebrows twitched violently—she looked ready to leap up and slap him across the mouth, to teach him which words could be spoken and which could not.

She had not expected him to say something like that. Wei Yingluo fell silent for a long while. Wisteria petals drifted down around them. If she thought back carefully, in the past they had often sought out a pavilion just like this one, a flowering tree just like this one, to tease each other into anger and then coax each other into laughter.

The pavilion was still the same pavilion; the flowering tree was still the same tree. But the people were no longer the same people.

The young master of those days, the stubborn little palace maid of those days—they had both been buried beneath the fallen petals of memory.

“…Fucha Fuheng.” At last Wei Yingluo spoke. “Do you know that rumors about you and me are circulating in the palace right now?”

As an outer-court official, Fuheng was naturally unaware of the inner palace’s private scandals, so he asked, “What rumors?”

“They say that you and I have had an improper relationship.” Wei Yingluo spoke calmly. “You are a minister who has rendered great military service; His Majesty naturally will not make things difficult for you. But I am different… So from today onward, please keep your distance from me!”

“…And if I say I cannot do that?” Fuheng lowered his head for a moment, then suddenly lifted it again.

“You!” He had always been gentle and refined, never aggressive. Wei Yingluo truly had not expected him to speak this way.

“I cannot stop looking at you. I cannot stop caring about you.” The battlefield had truly changed him a great deal. In the past he would never have looked at Wei Yingluo with such frank, unguarded eyes, nor would he ever have spoken his heart so openly. “In my heart… you are not His Majesty’s Concubine Ling. You are simply my Yingluo.”

You stand on the bridge gazing at the scenery; someone below the bridge is gazing at you.

“Look.”

Not far away, Noble Consort Chun was leading Hongli over. She pointed toward the two people whose eyes had just met and said, “Isn’t that Concubine Ling? And the man beside her seems to be…”

The palace was full of watchful eyes. Wei Yingluo had made no particular effort to hide, so the news had naturally traveled to Zhongcui Palace at lightning speed—and Noble Consort Chun had, with equal speed, brought Hongli to the Imperial Garden.

Hongli watched them from afar.

At such a distance, he could not hear what they were saying.

But merely seeing the two of them looking into each other’s eyes made his chest feel unbearably stifled. All the jealousy he had swallowed over the years surged up into his throat at once, so sour that he could not even speak.

“Your Majesty.” Noble Consort Chun appeared to be comforting him, but in reality she was pouring more vinegar down his throat. “Concubine Ling used to be a palace maid in Changchun Palace, so naturally she is familiar with Lord Fucha. The two of them are speaking in an open place, with palace maids present—it is all perfectly proper and aboveboard…”

How could Hongli listen to her explanations? He only believed what he saw: “If it is all perfectly proper and aboveboard, why do you need to explain it?”

Noble Consort Chun hurriedly lowered her head. “Your Majesty, I was only afraid you might misunderstand Concubine Ling. After all, she is young and spirited; she does not yet fully understand palace rules. If she occasionally steps out of line, it is only human nature…”

A misstep? What kind of mistake—and committed together with whom?

The angrier Hongli became as he listened, the more fiercely he glared at Wei Yingluo in the distance before finally flicking his sleeve and storming away.

Yanxi Palace.

   Ever since returning from the Imperial Garden, Wei Yingluo had been distracted and restless. While watering a pot of gardenias in front of her, the water overflowed the basin entirely; by the time she noticed, a small puddle had already formed on the floor.

With a sigh, Wei Yingluo was just about to call Ming Yu over to clean it up when the door opened. Li Yu entered, followed by several eunuchs.

Li Yu was always all smiles, but smiles come in different varieties. The one he wore now could hardly be called friendly—it was chilling, almost sinister.

“Chief Steward Li, what brings you here?” Ming Yu hurried forward. “Is His Majesty coming?”

Li Yu ignored her question. With a glance at the eunuchs beside him, they immediately scattered in different directions. One of them approached Wei Yingluo, bent down, and picked up the pot of gardenias from the floor.

Wei Yingluo watched calmly, showing no reaction. Ming Yu, however, could not stay composed. She cried out at once:

“What are you doing?”

“Concubine Ling, Your Ladyship,” Li Yu said with a beaming smile, “His Majesty said the smell of the night-soil buckets in Yong Alley is too overpowering. He’s borrowing your gardenias to perfume the place.”

“How can that be?” Ming Yu exclaimed in panic. “These are all precious flower varieties bestowed on Her Ladyship by His Majesty himself! How can they be used to fumigate Yong Alley? Put it down—put it down at once…”

Wei Yingluo tugged lightly at her sleeve, signaling her not to act rashly.

Soon the room was stripped bare of every potted plant. Presumably the ones outside would meet the same fate. One by one the eunuchs carried out armfuls of pots and left. Li Yu, ever the considerate man who always left himself an escape route, waited until the others had gone before speaking softly to Wei Yingluo:

“Your Ladyship Concubine Ling, His Majesty is currently angry with you. Once this burst of temper passes, things will be fine. This servant is merely carrying out orders—please do not blame me.”

Though the words seemed to defend himself, they actually conveyed one extremely important piece of information.

He was angry.

   Wei Yingluo’s heart stirred. After seeing him off, she instructed Ming Yu:

“Go find out whether His Majesty went to the Imperial Garden today.”

“Could it be…” Ming Yu’s face instantly turned pale.

“No need to guess wildly. First find out the facts clearly,” Wei Yingluo said.

Ming Yu rushed out in a hurry. When she returned, her steps were unsteady, her gaze vacant, as though she had lost her very soul. She kept muttering under her breath:

“It’s over… completely over…”

As pot after pot of gardenias was carried away in grand procession, everyone in the palace reached the same conclusion—

Yanxi Palace had thoroughly fallen from favor.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 127: Rumors

After that night, Wei Yingluo was no longer the sole favorite.

Hongli began to visit this palace for a while, then that one, as if the novelty of a certain person had finally worn off, and he was resuming the practice of spreading his favor evenly.

That day he came to Chuxiu Palace again, but his mood remained low throughout. He held a cup of wine for two whole hours without drinking more than a sip; it was still full. As bedtime approached, he suddenly stood up and said, “I just remembered there are still several important memorials I haven’t finished reviewing. I’ll return first.”

“I will see Your Majesty off.” Concubine Xiaojia lowered her eyes for a moment, then lifted her gaze with a smile. She took Hongli’s arm and led him out of the sleeping chamber, deliberately taking a longer route. She raised the lantern in her hand, illuminating the garden full of gardenia flowers. “Your Majesty, I plan to build a new pavilion here and name it the Jade Capital Pavilion. What do you think?”

“‘The flowers of Shu are all gone, yet the peaches of Yue are now in bloom. Their color seems to lean against jade trees, their fragrance like it comes from the Jade Capital.’” Hongli gazed at the garden full of gardenias and smiled. “Not bad. This patch of gardenias is blooming quite beautifully.”

In his heart, he found it somewhat amusing. Last time she had imitated Wei Yingluo by pretending to be ill; this time she was imitating her by planting gardenias in the garden. Why go to such trouble? No matter how much she copied, she was still herself—unique and irreplaceable.

“However… the very best gardenias are not in my possession…” Concubine Xiaojia drawled the words out.

“Hm, hm…” Hongli thought to himself, Of course they’re not with you—they’re with Wei Yingluo.

   Everyone in the palace knew that Wei Yingluo loved gardenias the most.

To please her, Hongli had people collect many of the finest specimens and plant them all over her Yanxi Palace. Over time, some of the lower-ranking servants jokingly began calling her the Gardenia Palace Mistress instead of the Mistress of Yanxi Palace.

“…but in the Fucha residence,” Concubine Xiaojia finished her unfinished sentence.

Hongli froze and turned sharply to stare at her.

His expression was so dark that Concubine Xiaojia couldn’t help swallowing hard. Trembling slightly with fear, she asked, “Your Majesty… did I say something wrong?”

“Do you really take me for a fool?” Hongli said coldly. “Every word and line are full of insinuation, slandering Concubine Ling!”

With her thoughts laid bare, Concubine Xiaojia decided to throw caution to the wind. She threw herself into his arms and sobbed, “Your Majesty, the one who truly loves you, you don’t care for. Those who love vanity, you hold close to your heart. Even if you kill me today, I must still say it—Concubine Ling has wronged you!”

Hongli shoved her away, sending her sprawling to the ground. Without looking back, he turned and strode off.

“Your Ladyship, why do you do this to yourself?” Zhener hurried over to help her up. “To wound the enemy by a thousand, you injure yourself by eight hundred.”

Concubine Xiaojia scoffed with a sneer, used Zhener’s hand to stand, then laughed viciously. “His Majesty is the supreme Son of Heaven, high above all. If the most favored consort is coveted by a subject, can he possibly bear it on his face? What’s a little risk? I want that vixen to never rise again!”

Rumors spread like flocks of birds, blotting out the sky, flying throughout the entire rear palace, reaching every ear.

In the end, they also reached Hongli’s ears.

That day the Empress was drinking tea when she heard chaotic footsteps outside. She turned and saw Hongli storm in, seething with anger. Before she could rise to greet him, he waved his hand and said, “Empress, lately rumors are running rampant in the palace. Have you heard them?”

“Rumors?” The Empress was taken aback. “Do you mean the ones about Concubine Ling and Lord Fucha…?”

Hongli’s face grimed. “Even you have heard them? It seems the entire rear palace already knows. Isn’t that so?”

The Empress sighed: “Your Majesty, during this period, you have been favoring Concubine Ling so much that it has naturally provoked jealousy among the six palaces and given rise to all sorts of gossip. It is unavoidable. Rest assured, I will thoroughly investigate this matter and ensure Concubine Ling receives justice.”

Hongli asked: “So you believe she is innocent?”

The Empress smiled: “Your Majesty, Lord Fucha has been away on campaigns for years, and Concubine Ling has been deep within the palace. If they happened to meet by chance and exchanged a few words, it is hardly excessive. After all, Concubine Ling was once the late Empress’s trusted palace maid. The bond between them was always different from that with others.”

Hongli’s fingers, resting on his knee, suddenly clenched into a fist. “…Bond?”

From the corner of her eye, the Empress noticed his fist but continued calmly: “Your Majesty, you have misunderstood my meaning. I only meant that those are things of the past. Ever since the late Empress passed away, Concubine Ling has lived quietly in the Yuanmingyuan and has never met Lord Fucha again. Now that she has become Your Majesty’s consort, she is even more cautious and rule-abiding in every way. What is there to criticize? Your Majesty is magnanimous; such minor matters never troubled you before…”

Yet the human heart is unpredictable. Sometimes the things one is told not to take to heart are precisely the ones that become impossible to let go.

Hongli suddenly raised his head and spoke word by word: “From this day forward, anyone who dares to discuss this matter again will be beaten to death with staves!”

“Your Majesty…” The Empress was stunned by the order. Even after he left, she remained staring at his departing figure in a daze.

Zhener approached: “Niangniang, regarding this matter…”

“I have never seen His Majesty make such a fuss over a woman before. What exactly has this Wei Yingluo done to him…” The Empress scoffed with icy disdain. “It seems Noble Consort Chun has finally met her match!”

The order was quickly issued, but it had little effect. On the surface, the palace servants kept their mouths shut, but behind closed doors the gossip continued to spread.

“I’ve already inquired about it,” Ming Yu said worriedly in Yanxi Palace. For nearly half an hour she had been unable to comb her hair properly; the ox-horn comb in her hand creaked under the pressure of her grip. “Recently, rumors about you and Lord Fucha have been circulating in the palace. Some say you two were already promised to each other back in Changchun Palace. Others say Lord Fucha, in order to advance his career, offered his beloved to the Emperor. And still others claim you two are still entangled to this day… It is precisely because of these rumors that His Majesty has not come to Yanxi Palace.”

Indeed, Hongli had not set foot in Yanxi Palace for a full month.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 126: Everyone Has Jealousy

   Their eyes met for a moment, then quickly darted away.

There was not a flicker of emotion on Wei Yingluo’s face—no joy at seeing a former lover, no rage at seeing an enemy. She was utterly unmoved, as if she had merely glanced at a roadside pebble or a white flower by the water’s edge. With an extremely indifferent and sparse look, she withdrew her gaze.

She passed calmly in front of Fuheng with her attendants, leaving him standing behind her. Though the spring sunlight was bright and warm, he felt as though he were plunged into ice and snow.

Just like back then, when Wei Yingluo had lain prostrate in the freezing cold, watching him walk away side by side with Erqing, the world turning upside down, her heart dying to ashes.

Hailancha sighed, pressed a hand to his shoulder, and said, “A lot has happened. In short… she is now His Majesty’s woman. Fuheng, give up.”

Yangxin Hall.

   “Fuheng, you have not disappointed me.” Hongli looked at him with eyes full of gratification; the admiration was practically overflowing. “You have rendered extraordinary service in Jinchuan this time. I ought to reward you. Speak—what do you want?”

Having achieved such a monumental victory, Fuheng showed not the slightest trace of joy. On the contrary, he seemed lifeless, like a dying man already half-buried in his coffin after a doctor pronounced his death sentence.

After a long silence, he slowly raised his head and stared at Hongli. “Your Majesty… no matter what this servant asks for, will you grant it?”

Though he had not yet said a single word of his request, Hongli seemed to sense something. The joy gradually faded from his face. With an indifferent tone, he issued the decree: “Proclaim: Fucha Fuheng is hereby ennobled as Duke of Loyalty and Valor of the First Rank, and is granted a jeweled crown button and the four-dragon court robe.”

Fuheng was stunned and opened his mouth to say something, but Hongli casually lifted a memorial and held it in front of his face, blocking his view. “That will be all. You may withdraw.”

“…Yes.” Seeing that His Majesty’s mind was made up, Fuheng could only kowtow deeply. “This servant kowtows in gratitude for Your Majesty’s profound grace.”

Hongli nodded. Behind the memorial, his expression was dark and gloomy.

“Your Majesty.” Not long after, Li Yu entered, carrying the green-headed name tablets. The one placed in the most prominent position was, unmistakably, Wei Yingluo’s.

Hongli picked up the tablet and rubbed his thumb over the character “Ling” engraved on it. In a calm voice he said, “Back when we were in Changchun Palace, Fuheng always took very good care of Concubine Ling. Now that he has returned safely from the battlefield, Concubine Ling must have been constantly worried. Knowing he is safe will surely lift a great weight from her heart.”

Li Yu did not know how to respond to this and simply stood quietly to one side.

Suddenly Hongli flung the tablet down hard and said in a muffled voice, “Go to Chuxiu Palace!”

Deep into the night, inside the Fucha residence.

   Cup after cup of wine—emptied, refilled, emptied again.

“Young Master.” Qinglian came in carrying a wooden tray on which rested a bowl of rice and several small side dishes. Concerned, she said, “Young Master, you haven’t touched food or water all day. You won a great victory and received high honors—both are joyful things. Why are you so miserable?”

Fuheng remained silent. He raised the wine cup in his hand and drained it in one gulp.

Qinglian sighed, set the tray down, and was about to withdraw. Halfway to the door, a low, muffled voice came from behind: “Why?”

She turned back and saw Fuheng slumped in his chair, reeking of alcohol. He looked nothing like an ever-victorious general—more like a wanderer fallen to the ends of the earth, alone with only his sword and his wine for company.

“When the battle reached its most desperate moment, His Majesty issued twelve urgent edicts in succession, ordering me to withdraw the troops. I defied the order and refused to retreat. I fought with my very last breath because I was determined to win. As long as I won…” He poured himself another cup of wine and drank, murmuring half-drunk, half-awake, “…then I could ask His Majesty for one wish…”

Qinglian ventured cautiously, “What did Young Master want?”

She was genuinely curious. Fuheng had always been indifferent to worldly desires—power, wealth, women, none of them moved him. Everyone said that among all the officials in court, he was the one who could not be bought, because no one knew what he truly wanted.

“I wanted one person,” Fuheng said.

Qinglian was slightly startled.

“I want to use military merit… to exchange for one person… a person I lost, one I’d risk everything to get back.” Fuheng closed his eyes and slowly uttered two earth-shattering words: “Yingluo…”

Qinglian was so shocked her soul nearly left her body.

The three characters “Wei Yingluo” were a strict taboo in this household.

Erqing constantly dragged those three words into every conversation, cursing and reviling them as though they were the most hateful words in the world. Even after the other woman was promoted to Concubine Ling, she still wouldn’t let it go.

Qinglian had never understood why Erqing hated her so much—until now, when she began to guess a little…

“Do you think I’ve gone mad?” Fuheng opened his eyes and smiled at her. Slowly he raised his right hand and pressed it against his own chest. “On the battlefield I came back from the jaws of death nine times out of ten. There’s a scar here—barely missed the heart. At that moment I thought: if I can survive and return, I will marry her… even if she resents me for it, even if she curses me, I will never be separated from her again.”

“Young Master…” Qinglian opened her mouth, then closed it again. She didn’t know whether to call him infatuated or foolish. In the end she could only let out a soft sigh. “Young Master, you’re drunk.”

“I’ve only just woken from a great dream—now I’m finally clear-headed.” Fuheng gave a rueful laugh. “All this time I thought I was magnanimous and tolerant, that I could suppress my feelings, watch her from afar, and wish her happiness. Only now do I realize it was all self-deception. The moment I learned she had become His Majesty’s woman, I couldn’t sit still. I rushed straight to the Emperor and demanded her from him…”

Hearing this, Qinglian broke into a cold sweat.

“Young—Young Master.” For a moment she could barely speak coherently. “You… you really demanded Concubine Ling from His Majesty?”

Such blatant disrespect—even if Fuheng won ten more battles like Jinchuan, it might not be enough to offset the crime! The entire Fucha household, high and low, could be dragged into disaster because of a single sentence!

   “I’m not quite that insane yet.” Fuheng gave a bitter smile, tilted his head back against the chair, and murmured, “I really am a useless man… right up to the end, I still couldn’t say it out loud…”

Qinglian let out a breath of relief. Seeing him like this, she felt a pang of heartache. She stepped closer, her fingers reaching out, hesitating, stretching forward again—then timidly drew them back behind her.

“Young Master, this isn’t your fault. It’s the cruelty of fate…” She cursed her own lack of education; she couldn’t find the right words to comfort him and could only offer these useless phrases.

Fuheng didn’t reply. He closed his eyes and fell asleep right there in the chair.

Qinglian couldn’t bear to leave him at such a moment. She was afraid that if he woke up in the middle of the night and found no one beside him, he would feel even colder and lonelier. So she stood quietly nearby, watching over him.

The candle on the table burned down to nothing. When Qinglian replaced it with a fresh one, Fuheng’s voice drifted hazily from behind her. He seemed to be trapped in a nightmare—tears glistened at the corners of his eyes, one tear sliding slowly down his cheek as he murmured in his sleep:

“Sister… I regret it so much…”

   Qinglian looked at him. Suddenly she raised her hand; her fingertips came away wet. For some reason, she too began to cry.

Things remain, but people change—everything comes to an end.

Before a word is spoken, tears already fall.

So many things in the world: at the time you feel nothing, but only later, when you think back, does regret come crashing in.

Inside Chuxiu Palace, Hongli regarded the woman crying piteously before him.

Concubine Xiaojia had just finished her month of strict confinement. Fearing she had fallen out of favor, she had visibly lost weight—her sash hung looser, her figure noticeably thinner. Silent tears streaming down her face made her look utterly pitiful.

“Your Majesty, I know I was wrong,” she knelt on the ground, sobbing. “No matter how you punish me, I’ll accept it—just please don’t ignore your concubine anymore!”

“It’s good that you recognize your mistake,” Hongli said calmly. Yet in his heart he thought: How wonderful it would be if she could be as gentle and obedient as you.

Concubine Xiaojia crawled forward on her knees like a small dog terrified of being abandoned by its master. She didn’t even dare stand up. Reaching him, she clutched the hem of his robe with both hands, looked up at him with a pitiful expression, and said:

“Ever since Concubine Ling entered the palace, Your Majesty has paid attention to no one else. I am just a simple, ignorant little woman—my heart holds only Your Majesty. Watching you spend every day with Concubine Ling has been pure torment! In a moment of confusion I made her kneel as punishment! Your concubine knows she was wrong. From now on I will never make things difficult for her again!”

Hongli sighed. “All right, get up.”

Only then did Concubine Xiaojia rise from the floor. But after a moment she let out a soft, plaintive sigh, and—seemingly casually—added:

“Your Majesty, please don’t blame me anymore. Everyone feels jealousy. If only you would share just a fraction of the favor you give Concubine Ling with me, I would never have done such a thing.”

“Everyone feels jealousy…” Hongli slowly rolled the phrase around on his tongue, tasting it. Then suddenly he asked:

“…And what if there is someone who never cares where I go, who never cares whom I favor?”

“That person clearly doesn’t have Your Majesty in their heart at all,” Concubine Xiaojia said without a moment’s hesitation, her words firm and decisive.

Hongli remained silent for a long time.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 125: Return

When joy comes, the spirit flourishes. After reconciling with Wei Yingluo, Hongli had been visibly cheerful for several days in a row. Even when a young eunuch beside him accidentally spilled tea on his robes, he didn’t get angry; instead he spoke gently and told Li Yu not to punish the boy.

Perhaps good things come in pairs—on this day, while he was handling state affairs in the Yangxin Hall, Li Yu suddenly rushed in from outside.

“Your Majesty!” Li Yu bowed and reported, “Great victory at Jinchuan! General Fucha personally led the campaign and captured several Jinchuan blockhouses!”

Hongli immediately stood up, joy spreading across his face:

“Really? Jinchuan has been won? Fuheng has won!”

Li Yu: “Yes, Your Majesty. The Jinchuan chieftain Salawen has submitted a petition of surrender. The army will soon withdraw and return to the capital!”

“Good! Good! Good!” Hongli said the word three times in succession. “My judgment was not wrong—Fuheng is truly a rare military talent! Transmit the decree: Fuheng is to return to the capital first to report on his duties!”

This campaign had lasted a full two years. When Fuheng returned to the Fucha residence, the people of the household almost failed to recognize him. The elegant young gentleman who once shone like a full moon was now not only tanned dark but noticeably thinner, his face weathered by wind and dust—more like a lone wisp of smoke rising in the great desert than the bright full moon of before.

“Fuheng, Fuheng!” The old madam rushed out quickly. Her eyesight had grown even worse; even though the person was right in front of her, she couldn’t see him. Her hands kept groping around in all directions. “Where are you? Where are you?”

“Mother!” Fuheng hurriedly reached out to support her.

The old madam followed his hand, feeling her way up to his cheek. Gradually she recognized her son’s face and said with tears in her eyes, “You’ve been gone nearly three years, and you’ve finally come back. My son, you’ve grown so thin…”

“It’s good that you’re back.” Erqing approached in splendid attire, her smile radiant and charming. “From now on, don’t leave again, so that neither Mother nor I have to worry ourselves sick.”

The moment he saw her, Fuheng’s expression immediately darkened. “Why are you here?”

Though the old madam couldn’t see, she could hear the displeasure in his voice and spoke with a slight reproach: “You went away and left your wife behind. Poor thing—she was heavily pregnant and nearly died in difficult labor. If I hadn’t forced people to break open that building, you would have caused me to lose my grandson!”

Fuheng replied indifferently, “Isn’t everything fine now?”

The old madam didn’t understand why he treated her this way. He was kind to everyone else, yet toward Erqing he acted as if she were his mortal enemy. She had tried to persuade him many times, but it was useless. The two of them were like a mirror shattered into pieces—even if forcibly pieced back together, the cracks would always remain.

Now she could only pin her hopes on that child, hoping he might mend their broken relationship. The old madam said, “Come now, come and see your son—Fukang’an… Fukang’an…”

The crowd parted, and a small boy walked toward them.

He was about two or three years old, dressed in a brocade robe of blue with floral patterns, wearing a precious cap on his head adorned with a beautiful Eastern pearl that shimmered with light. The child walked up to Fuheng, raised his head, and timidly looked at him. His pair of extremely beautiful eyes were strikingly similar to those of Hongli in his youth, as Fuheng remembered them.

Fuheng felt as though a needle had pierced his heart. He quickly turned his head away. “Mother, I still have to enter the palace to report on official duties. I cannot stay at home long. I’ll come back tonight to keep you company and talk, alright?”

For people of the Fucha family, state affairs always took precedence over family matters. The old madam could only nod in agreement. Before he left, she still reminded him, “Come back early. Don’t spend all your time on the affairs of the nation. Occasionally you should also find some time to spend with your wife and your child.”

Fuheng gave a reluctant nod, but he had no desire whatsoever to look at that mother and son. After seeing the old madam off, he immediately prepared to depart, as though two ferocious beasts were chasing after him.

“Stop.”

One of the beasts called out to him.

Seeing that Fuheng did not pause, the other party simply ran over and blocked his way.

“Fuheng.” Erqing’s makeup was exquisite, yet no amount of thick powder or vivid rouge could conceal the malice hidden in her smile. “This is your son. How can you not even take a proper look at him?”

As she spoke, she pushed Fukang’an forward.

Once again, Fuheng averted his eyes. He truly did not want to see that familiar pair of eyes.

“Do you know I nearly died giving birth in that attic?” Erqing said with a laugh. “Now that you see me, you won’t even say a single word of apology?”

Fuheng replied coldly, “There were doctors and midwives in the building.”

He hated her for her infidelity, hated her for scheming against Hongli and conceiving a forbidden child. Even so, he had never intended to kill her or silence her. He still provided her with fine food and wine, and never skimped on her daily needs. From her, he had only taken one thing—her freedom.

Yet Erqing only remembered that he had taken her freedom; she forgot everything he had given her.

Perhaps in her eyes, Fuheng would always be the one who owed her, and therefore she could naturally take revenge on him and demand everything from him.

“I needed my husband’s care even more.” She moved closer to Fuheng, reaching for the thing she craved most—love.

But Fuheng stretched out his hand and pushed her away, giving a faint smile. “From the moment you did that thing, Fucha Fuheng ceased to be your husband.”

Erqing fell silent for a moment, then smiled at him. “Fuheng, you won’t be so heartless toward me.”

“Do you think that my keeping you here means I have feelings for you?” Fuheng looked at her, his eyes devoid of the slightest trace of affection. His gaze slowly shifted to Fukang’an, filled with an indescribable complexity. “It’s only for this child’s sake… Since you gave birth to him, be a proper mother from now on. Stop humiliating yourself.”

Fukang’an shuddered and hid his small body behind Erqing, then cautiously peeked out to observe him.

Fuheng looked at the child.

He could not give him fatherly love. He didn’t even know what kind of gaze he should use to look at him in the future. With a quiet sigh in his heart, Fuheng turned to leave.

Behind him, Erqing suddenly scoffed with icy disdain. “Lord Fucha, are you in such a hurry to enter the palace to see Wei Yingluo?”

Fuheng ignored her.

“Oh my, look at my loose tongue!” Erqing raised her voice slightly. “How could I call her Wei Yingluo? I should properly address her as her Ladyship Concubine Ling!”

Fuheng’s steps faltered. He whipped around sharply. “What did you say?”

Without immediately answering, Erqing bent down and picked up the hiding Fukang’an, holding him in her arms. The adult and child — two ferocious floods — stared at Fuheng together, carrying an unspeakable humiliation and unbearable shame.

“The humiliation I give you, the pain Fukang’an causes you… it seems that together they still cannot compare to one Wei Yingluo.” Erqing smiled sweetly and said, “Look at you — your face has gone so pale… Aren’t you going to see her? Go on then. Go to Yanxi Palace. Go kneel before her. Go call her Her Ladyship Concubine Ling.”

Each sentence, each word, stabbed into Fuheng’s chest like a knife, leaving him bleeding profusely, covered in wounds. “I don’t believe it.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then gritted his teeth and opened them again. “You’re lying to me!”

He stumbled away in near-disarray, mounted his horse, whipped it fiercely, and galloped through the palace gates.

Horses were not allowed inside the palace. He dismounted, tossed the reins to the guard, and hurried inside — but not toward Yangxin Hall.

“Fuheng!” A hand grabbed his arm. “Have you gone mad?”

Fuheng turned to look at the other person. “Let go.”

Hailancha seemed to have run all the way here; his breathing was slightly ragged, sweat beaded on his forehead. He glanced around warily, then lowered his voice: “The Emperor is still waiting for you at Yangxin Hall. What are you doing running to Yanxi Palace?”

As an outer court official, privately entering the inner palace could be a capital offense.

Not to mention Fuheng’s past with Wei Yingluo…

Fuheng knew it was improper, yet he could not control his own feet. They seemed to have a will of their own, desperately carrying him toward Yanxi Palace, toward that person.

“I…” Fuheng murmured, “I have one sentence I need to say to her.”

That sentence had been hidden in his heart for a very long time.

He had originally planned to tell her before going to the battlefield. But then he thought — if he died on the battlefield, wouldn’t those words become a burden to her? So in the Yuanmingyuan, he only looked at her from afar, swallowed the words that had reached his lips, turned silently, and marched off to war.

He told himself: “I will keep these words in my heart. If I die on the battlefield, this heart will rot with me. If I return alive, I will cut this heart open and give it to her.”

“…She’s coming!” Hailancha suddenly yanked him down. “Quick, lower your head!”

But Fuheng refused to bow. He stared straight ahead at the approaching palanquin with its ceremonial poles.

He had survived nine deaths and one life for the chance to speak to her.

   Yet now that he had finally returned alive, he had already lost the right to speak to her.

   This heart had not rotted on the battlefield — it would rot inside his chest instead…

   As if sensing something, inside the palanquin, Wei Yingluo suddenly turned her head. The bright moon-shaped earring swayed with her movement, flashing two streaks of snowy white light in the air. Her gaze was colder than the pearl’s gleam, fixing firmly on Fuheng’s face.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 124: Keeping Distance Yet Close

   Men are proud by nature, and Hongli was prouder than all the men in the world combined by a factor of three.

He knew full well that he was in the wrong, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say “sorry,” nor could he swallow his pride enough to go to Yanxi Palace.

So day after day, he went to Shoukang Palace instead.

What was in Shoukang Palace? Besides the Empress Dowager, there was Wei Yingluo.

Perhaps because she was older now, the Empress Dowager preferred liveliness over quiet. This Wei Yingluo was especially favored there—not only did she dress up as Jia Baoyu or Du Liniang, but today she would perform a scene from Dream of the Red Chamber, tomorrow she would sing an aria from The Peony Pavilion.

Today Hongli came to Shoukang Palace to pay his respects again. His gaze swept quickly past the people beside the Empress Dowager. A flash of disappointment crossed his eyes before he swiftly concealed it and said to the Empress Dowager with composure: “This son respectfully greets the Empress Dowager and wishes Her Ladyship well.”

The Empress Dowager did not rise. The concubines beside her all stood up and curtsied: “We pay respects to Your Majesty.”

Everyone had their own little calculations.

Hongli came to pay respects so diligently that the concubines from every palace could only be even more diligent.

In the past, Shoukang Palace had rarely been so lively. Now half the harem had practically moved in. Every concubine had something to say to the Empress Dowager. If they couldn’t find words, they would find some excuse to wait nearby, hoping Hongli would come by.

“You’ve come at just the right time. I was just talking with Noble Consort Chun about the scenery of Jiangnan.” The Empress Dowager saw through everything but said nothing, smiling as she spoke to Hongli. “Unfortunately, I never got to visit Suzhou in my lifetime, so I’ve never seen the landscapes of Jiangnan. Fortunately, I’ve just acquired a painting of the beautiful scenery of Jinan. Emperor, why don’t we admire it together?”

Aunt Liu brought over a scroll. When it was unrolled, strange mountains and wondrous waters unfolded before everyone’s eyes.

But upon seeing the layered peaks of Changting, fishing boats appearing and disappearing, and two mountain peaks rising and falling amid the water and clouds—grand, perilous, and majestically imposing—Noble Consort Chun only gave it a single glance before recognizing the painting. “This is… Zhao Mengfu’s Autumn Colors on the Que and Hua Mountains?”

She quickly turned her eyes toward Hongli, only to see his gaze fixed on the painting, his expression visibly darkening. Gritting his teeth, he said, “This is the painting Noble Lady Wei presented to the Empress Dowager?”

Why would he suddenly bring up Wei Yingluo?

The Empress Dowager was extremely perceptive. After a brief moment of surprise, she immediately understood the underlying issue and smiled warmly, saying, “Yes… Emperor, don’t you always particularly like this kind of landscape painting? Then I shall give this painting to you.”

Hongli forcibly suppressed his anger and forced a smile. “Since it is the Empress Dowager’s kind intention, your son naturally cannot refuse.”

This “kind intention” left Hongli furious the entire morning.

He barely ate any lunch—whatever was brought in was sent back out untouched.

“Li Yu.” Hongli stood with his hands behind his back, facing the wall where Autumn Colors on the Que and Hua Mountains now hung. His expression was extremely gloomy as he said, “Tell me—even if I wronged her, even if I treated her unjustly—she could have come to me like Concubine Xiaojia did, crying and pleading her case. Why did she stubbornly refuse to speak and instead blame me for neglecting her?”

Li Yu cautiously glanced at him. “Your Majesty, shall this servant… deliver these words to Yanxi Palace for you?”

“Insolent!” Hongli roared.

“Yes, this servant deserves death!” Li Yu thought he had misread the imperial intention and immediately dropped any mention of going to Yanxi Palace.

He thought he had finally gotten it right this time, but moments later he received another angry rebuke from Hongli: “Why are you still standing there?”

Li Yu dropped to his knees. They say accompanying a ruler is like accompanying a tiger—he truly understood the misery of that saying today. Go or not go—Your Majesty, please just give a clear order.

In truth, Hongli himself had no clear answer in his heart.

One moment he thought of apologizing; the next, his pride roared at him not to do so. One moment he was furious that she had given away something he personally bestowed; the next, he couldn’t help but make excuses for her: “…She’s merely a Noble Lady.”

Li Yu no longer dared respond—anything he said would be wrong—so he simply kept his mouth shut and listened.

“When she suddenly received imperial favor, naturally the other consorts were jealous. She has no powerful family background, so it’s inevitable she would be bullied. Not long ago, didn’t she injure her knees from kneeling?” Hongli didn’t need a reply. When one hates a person, everything they do is wrong; when one likes a person, everything they do has a reason. “At that time… she probably wanted to come to me, but before I had sorted things out clearly, I punished her.”

He paused, then let out a soft sigh. “She must have been afraid, and so she no longer placed her hopes in me, but instead turned to the Empress Dowager for protection.”

As for why the painting ended up in Shoukang Palace, he no longer wanted to pursue the matter.

Perhaps she had sent it to curry favor with the Empress Dowager. Or perhaps the Empress Dowager had seen it and casually expressed a liking for it, and given her lowly status, how could she possibly refuse such a request from the Dowager?

“Go,” Hongli said softly. “Go to Yanxi Palace.”

Li Yu acknowledged the order with a “Yes” and withdrew.

The waiting was the most agonizing part. Hongli paced back and forth in front of Autumn Colors on the Que and Hua Mountains, glancing toward the door with almost every step.

Only when Li Yu’s figure reappeared at the doorway did he finally stop. He quickly returned to his desk, picked up a memorial as a pretense, and pretended to be indifferent: “What did Noble Lady Wei say?”

Li Yu noticed that the memorial in His Majesty’s hand was upside down but pretended not to see it. Lowering his head, he replied, “Noble Lady Wei said… she already knows she was wrong.”

“Is that so?” Hongli immediately set the memorial down and stood up almost eagerly. “I’ll go see how she is admitting her fault.”

He left so hurriedly that the servants below had no time to announce his arrival.

In Yanxi Palace, candles were hastily lit. Ming Yu hurriedly tidied herself and, holding a hexagonal palace lantern, came out to greet him: “Your Majesty, Her Ladyship has just retired for the night…”

Hongli raised a hand to silence her and strode directly toward the inner bedchamber.

Wei Yingluo had just gotten up, still draped in a sleeping robe, her long hair uncombed and cascading down her back like a length of jet-black satin that reflected the flickering candlelight, dazzlingly beautiful. She smiled and said, “Your Majesty, why have you come?”

Hongli took a deep breath, his whole body radiating arrogance, yet the moment she turned and smiled at him, he bowed his head in submission. Before she could even apologize, he spoke first:

“I’ve ordered Concubine Xiaojia to be confined to her palace for one month of self-reflection and to copy the Rules for Women one hundred times.”

This was the utmost limit of what he could bring himself to do. He could never actually utter the words “I’m sorry,” but these words and this action were already his equivalent of an apology.

Wei Yingluo understood this perfectly. She froze for a moment, then gave a soft, amused smile and deliberately provoked him:

“Your Majesty, are you… apologizing to me?”

Hongli’s eyelid twitched.

This woman… she sees right through everything but refuses to stay quiet!

Irritated, he strode over, suddenly pinned Wei Yingluo down onto the bed, and looked down at her from above, his eyes filled with helplessness and annoyance:

“Wei Yingluo, you always manage to infuriate me!”

Wei Yingluo burst into giggles. Her laughter was so charming that it smoothed away even his anger.

“Your Majesty,” she reached up, hooked her arms around Hongli’s neck, pulled his lips toward hers, and gave him a light peck, playful as a little kitten, “this is just the way your concubine is. Even if you dislike it, I’m afraid I can’t change!”

Hongli was momentarily stunned. His heart felt as though a cat’s claws had lightly scratched it—how could he possibly want her to change?

She had always been like this: visible yet untouchable, touchable yet unattainable, coming close yet remaining distant, like a solitary cat that comes and goes as it pleases. It was always him who went to find her, never her who came looking for him or begged for anything.

All the women in the palace belonged to him, and of course she did too… yet somehow she never truly felt like his.

   How could he possibly tame this elusive, independent cat?

   One night of tender intimacy passed.

   When night gave way to dawn, Wei Yingluo was curled up in the blankets like a contented cat. Hongli sat beside her, gazing at her in fascination, then suddenly spoke in a low voice:

“Li Yu, come transmit a decree.”

Li Yu stepped forward, but secretly resolved that this time he would not act too quickly—lest the Emperor change his mind again and he himself end up taking the blame.

Hongli said:

“Appoint Minister of Works Hadaha as chief envoy and Grand Secretary of the Cabinet Wu Ling’an as deputy envoy. They shall carry the imperial credentials and invest Noble Lady Wei as Concubine Ling. Also, Concubine Xiaojia is to remain confined for one month of self-reflection and copy the Rules for Women one hundred times.”

The title “Ling” comes from the Book of Songs (Greater Odes): “Like a jade tablet, like a scepter, of excellent fame and excellent dignity”—pure and beautiful as jade, worthy of such an honorific.

   Li Yu was astonished: “Yes, Your Majesty.”

In his heart he thought: His Majesty was just thundering with rage a moment ago, and now in the blink of an eye he bestows such a title! Noble Lady Wei has been in the palace less than three months—she’s practically riding a ladder to the clouds. It’s truly frightening. Once word gets out, the harem will surely be thrown into unrest again.

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