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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Noble Consort Chun has arrived!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t entirely an excuse.

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

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

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

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

Ming Yu: “You—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xiaoquanzi simply smiled at her without saying much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xiaoquanzi was struck dumb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank me for what?” Hailancha looked puzzled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From behind another pillar, Fuheng slowly stepped forward.

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

Fuheng remained silent.

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

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

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

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