Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 113: Reunion

   “This year’s Wan Shou (Longevity) celebration will be held in the Zhengda Guangming Hall of the Yuanming Garden. The Emperor, Empress, Empress Dowager, and Noble Consort Chun will all be in attendance. There must not be the slightest mistake. You few are specially assigned to clean His Majesty’s Qinzheng Hall.”

Manager Zhang pointed them out one by one, finally landing on Wei Yingluo and Yuan Chunwang. “You two are specially assigned to clear the weeds along the entire rear lake.”

Yingluo: “The entire rear lake?”

Chief Steward Zhang: “Yes! The entire rear lake!”

Afraid she didn’t grasp the importance of the task, Chief Steward Zhang added, “This Wan Shou Festival will feature the release-of-life ceremony at the rear lake of the Yuanming Garden. All of you had better stay alert. If there is even the tiniest oversight, be careful of your hides!”

After Chief Steward Zhang left, Yuan Chunwang glanced at Wei Yingluo. “This job is grueling and exhausting—how can you still be smiling?”

“When the Emperor comes to the Yuanming Garden, Noble Consort Chun will surely come too. Doesn’t that mean I’ll get to see Ming Yu?” Wei Yingluo beamed with joy.

After the Empress passed away, the palace maids of Changchun Palace were reassigned. Ming Yu was sent to serve Noble Consort Chun at Zhongcui Palace. Though the two were now in different places, their letters had never stopped.

“I was a little worried at first—afraid Noble Consort Chun might not like her straightforward, reckless personality. But then I received her letter saying life in Zhongcui Palace was going fairly well, and I finally relaxed a bit.” At this point, Wei Yingluo frowned in distress again. “But in the last few months, her letters have mysteriously stopped. I don’t know what happened on her end. When she comes here, I’ll ask her properly and see if there’s anything I can do to help…”

Yuan Chunwang couldn’t help laughing inwardly. He reached out and lightly tapped her between the brows. “You, ah, you—you can barely take care of yourself, yet you’re still thinking about helping others.”

Wei Yingluo mumbled, “What can I do? That’s just how I am.”

“You really should learn from me,” Yuan Chunwang said, ruffling her hair. “I never bother with other people’s business—only ours.”

His temperament was something Wei Yingluo could never learn.

Yuan Chunwang was adept at holding grudges, whereas she excelled at remembering kindness. Every drop of favor, every bit of friendship, even the tiniest trace of love—she could never forget them. Like a blade of grass in the desert that forever remembers the mercy of a single drop of water.

A few days later, noble ladies arrived at the garden.

Wherever a noble lady went, she was inevitably followed by countless servants. As more and more noble ladies entered, the procession grew ever grander and more imposing. Wei Yingluo searched through the crowd for a long time before finally spotting the person she was looking for.

“…Ming Yu?” Wei Yingluo almost didn’t dare to recognize her.

Though the two had once been senior palace maids together in Changchun Palace, their circumstances now could not have been more different. Wei Yingluo had been banished to Yuanmingyuan as punishment, while Ming Yu had been transferred to serve under Noble Consort Chun, still holding the position of senior palace maid.

…But what was going on? How could someone serving in the presence of a favored consort look even worse than someone enduring punishment?

Wei Yingluo quietly continued with the rough chores in her hands. After waiting nearly half an hour, she finally found an opportunity. She moved close to Ming Yu and whispered, “Ming Yu, come with me.”

Yuanmingyuan was filled with towering rockeries and lush foliage—everywhere were perfect hiding spots.

Having lived here for nearly half a year, Wei Yingluo knew exactly where to go for a private conversation. She pulled Ming Yu behind a large artificial mountain, studied her up and down for a moment, then said gravely, “Ming Yu, is something troubling you?”

Ming Yu’s complexion was dreadful, like that of someone just recovered from a serious illness. When Wei Yingluo took hold of her arm, she felt nothing but bones—there was scarcely any flesh left.

Bad color alone would have been one thing, but Ming Yu also seemed dazed and absent-minded. She stared blankly at Wei Yingluo for a long time before suddenly shivering as though waking from a dream. Shaking her head, she said, “I—I’m fine.”

With that, she tried to wrench her arm free and flee.

How could Wei Yingluo let her leave in such confusion? She reached out and pulled her back. Ming Yu immediately let out a sharp cry of pain.

“…You’re hurt?” Wei Yingluo was startled. Coming back to her senses, she ignored Ming Yu’s struggles, forcibly rolled up her sleeve—but the skin beneath was smooth and flawless, without a single mark or wound.

Ming Yu: “I told you I’m fine. Why won’t you believe me…”

Wei Yingluo stared at her. “If nothing’s wrong, why does it hurt?”

Ming Yu stammered, searching for a long time but unable to come up with a reasonable excuse.

“Ming Yu, there’s no one else here. Just tell me the truth.” Wei Yingluo pressed her hands firmly on the other woman’s shoulders and said in a low, serious voice, “Did Noble Consort Chun do something to you?”

Ming Yu’s gaze darted away for a long while before finally settling on her face. She opened her mouth, about to speak—when a cool, indifferent voice suddenly came from behind:

“Ming Yu, why are you still idling here? Her Ladyship is looking for you! Come here at once!”

Ming Yu shuddered violently, as though an invisible arrow had shot straight through her chest from behind.

“I… I’m coming right now.” Her reply was timid and shrinking. Her posture instinctively hunched forward, completely stripped of the bold, fiery spirit she had once shown back in Changchun Palace.

Seeing her like this, Wei Yingluo felt a sharp pang in her heart. She raised her head and looked coldly at the newcomer. “What exactly have you people done to Ming Yu?”

The person who had spoken was Yuhu, the senior palace maid serving beside Noble Consort Chun.

Yuhu shot a fierce glare at Ming Yu before turning to Wei Yingluo with an innocent expression. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand what you mean.”

Wei Yingluo pointed at Ming Yu. “A perfectly good person has been turned into a frightened bird. Unless Noble Consort Chun treats her kindly to her face and abuses her behind her back!”

Yuhu: “Don’t talk nonsense!”

“Back then, Noble Consort Xian followed the Empress’s lead in everything. Now that the late Empress is gone, she secretly abuses the old servants of Changchun Palace. It makes no sense at all…” Wei Yingluo scoffed with icy disdain, sizing Yuhu up and down. “Could it be that there’s some hidden story behind this?”

Yuhu’s expression had been calm until she heard those words—only then did a slight trace of unnaturalness flicker across her face.

Wei Yingluo had only been bluffing at first, but seeing this reaction, her heart gave a sudden thud. Could it really be… that there truly was some secret hidden behind all this?

“Sickness enters through the mouth; disaster comes out of the mouth.” Yuhu quickly composed herself, cast a very cold glance at Wei Yingluo, and said indifferently, “Wei Yingluo, I warn you: watch your words carefully. Otherwise, one day you’ll die without even knowing how… Let’s go!”

Wei Yingluo watched the two of them leave. Behind her came the lazy drawl of Yuan Chunwang: “Why bother? You’ve just provoked a petty little villain like that.”

Shaking her head, Wei Yingluo said gravely, “I’d like to see whether she really intends to kill me. If she actually dares… then there must be an enormous secret hidden behind Zhongcui Palace.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 112: The Step Empress

An unoccupied house grows old; an untrodden path becomes overgrown with weeds.

How much time had really passed? Already wild grass had sprouted in the flower beds of Changchun Palace.

Hongli stood amid the flower bed. The weeds grew thick and lush; a gust of wind came and bent them low.

“I know that you and Rongyin were husband and wife from the beginning. Her departure must have left you heartbroken and sorrowful,” the Empress Dowager said as she approached, trying to comfort him. “But it has been so long already. You should let it go.”

Let it go?

   Hongli lowered his head to look at the jasmine flowers at his feet. As long as a single jasmine bloom remained in this world, he would never be able to forget that jasmine-pure and graceful person.

“The Empress is the head of the Six Palaces. The position cannot remain vacant forever. Sooner or later you must establish a new empress,” the Empress Dowager continued to persuade him gently in his ear. “Among the women of the inner palace, though Noble Consort Xian has no children, she possesses the highest prestige and seniority. If you are to name a new empress, she is the only suitable choice.”

“Empress Dowager, you are right,” Hongli sighed. “It is only that I feel…”

He only felt that he had let her down…

   “Emperor,” the Empress Dowager understood this better than anyone, yet she refused to indulge or spoil him. Half admonishing and half stern, she said, “All the regrets of the past are already behind us. It is better to cherish the person before your eyes!”

Hongli gazed at the white blossoms scattered among the weeds. After a long silence, he let out a desolate sigh.

Three days later, in the Chengqian Hall.

   “The Nala clan was granted to me by my Imperial Father as a side consort. She has conducted herself with virtue and prudence, is well-versed in rites and teachings, and fully embodies the dignified and benevolent instructions of the Empress Dowager, making her truly fit to serve as mother and model to all under Heaven. Now that the auspicious time has arrived, it is appropriate to install her in the central palace. Therefore, in obedience to the Empress Dowager, I hereby confer the title of Empress upon Noble Consort Nala of the side rank…”

After seeing off the eunuch who delivered the decree, Zhener returned to the sleeping chamber in high spirits. The moment she pushed open the door, she froze.

Noble Consort Xian had already changed into the empress’s ceremonial robes on her own. She stood before the mirror, speaking to her reflection: “You have finally become the Empress.”

Such a wonderful thing—yet not the slightest trace of joy could be seen on her face.

“Mother,” Noble Consort Xian murmured, gently stroking the mirror with one hand. “Your Shushen is no longer that weak and incompetent daughter of the past. I have become the Empress, head of the Six Palaces, mother and model to the realm! From now on, you will never have to live hand-to-mouth again, never have to endure others’ mockery. I have brought honor to our family. I have not failed your expectations…”

As she spoke, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“…Why aren’t you here?” Noble Consort Xian choked. “Why won’t you come see this ceremonial robe with your own eyes? Why… won’t you come praise me, hold me… Mother… Mother…”

She covered her face with one hand. Slowly her knees buckled and she knelt before the mirror. Tears slipped through the gaps between her fingers and fell to the floor.

Zhener sighed softly in her heart. She quietly closed the door, then stood guard outside, preventing anyone from entering, ensuring no one would see or hear this most vulnerable moment of Noble Consort Xian.

State affairs and family matters—establishing an empress was a great matter of state; sending troops to war was a great matter of the family.

   “Let me die! Just let me die!”

The Fucha residence was thrown into utter chaos. Erqing’s hair was disheveled, a dagger clutched in her hand as she brandished it, pretending she was about to take her own life.

A group of servants surrounded her, all coaxing and persuading. Du Juan was so anxious she was drenched in sweat. When she saw Fuheng enter, she hurriedly rushed over and said, “Young Master, you’ve finally come! When Young Madam heard you were going to Jinchuan, she panicked. She said that rather than watch you go off to die, she’d rather die herself. Please, hurry and talk her out of it!”

Fuheng’s gaze swept over Erqing. He said indifferently, “Why aren’t you doing it yet?”

Erqing had only been putting on an act—how could she possibly really die? Now caught in an awkward position with no way out, she simply threw the dagger down and cried, “Fucha Fuheng, going on campaign to Jinchuan is such a huge matter, and I, your wife, was the last one to know… Yet you still tell me to die. Do you even have any humanity?”

With the husband and wife at odds, the servants below also found themselves in a difficult position. Du Juan quietly advised, “Young Master, please have some sympathy for Madam. She really is worried about you…”

“Worried about me?” Fuheng laughed. “No. She’s afraid that if I die on the battlefield, she’ll become a widow, and all the fame, status, and privileges she enjoys now will instantly turn to smoke and clouds.”

Erqing stared in disbelief. “What did you say?!”

Fuheng’s expression remained calm. “What? Am I wrong?”

Having her true thoughts exposed, Erqing flew into a humiliated rage. She raised the dagger and lunged toward him. “Then I’ll simply cut off your hand—let’s see how you go to the battlefield to die!”

She was nothing more than a pampered lady of wealth and leisure—how could she possibly be a match for Fuheng? With a light sweep of his hand, Erqing cried out in pain and the dagger flew from her grasp.

He kicked the dagger into the corner with one foot, then coldly ordered everyone, “Erqing stays. Everyone else—get out!”

His authority was formidable. Du Juan bent down to pick up the dagger from the floor and, together with the other servants, withdrew from the room.

“Xitara Erqing.” With no one else around, Fuheng’s voice sank, no longer hiding anything. “I’ve allowed you to live not because there is dragon seed in your belly, but because I once felt guilt toward you! But no amount of guilt can withstand the way you keep wearing me down. Listen well: starting today, you will stay obediently inside this building. If you dare take even one step outside—”

“What will you do?” Erqing glared at him.

Fuheng’s tone was sparse and ordinary, yet the words that came out sent a chill down Erqing’s spine: “Step out with your left leg, and I’ll cut off your left leg. Step out with your right leg, and I’ll cut off your right leg.”

Erqing stared at him for a long time, finally realizing that he meant every word…

A faint trace of regret rose in her heart—not regret for having schemed against Hongli back then, but regret that she hadn’t framed the entire matter on Hongli instead. She should have insisted, sworn that Hongli had lusted after her beauty and forced himself on her…

After all, a loyal subject like Fuheng would never dare question the Emperor about such a thing. The truth would still be whatever she claimed it to be.

Now that the deed was done and irreversible, Erqing, filled with regret, could only sob and wail, “It takes two hands to clap. A child isn’t something I could conceive alone. You only know how to bully me—why don’t I see you go confront the Emperor?”

Fuheng shook his head. “I served as His Majesty’s study companion for ten years. I know his character a hundred times better than you do. Even if you were as beautiful as a celestial fairy, once you and I had bowed to heaven and earth and entered the doors of the Fucha family, he would never touch a single finger of yours. How this child came to be—you don’t need to say it; I can already guess. You had better pray that I return safely. If I don’t come back…”

Erqing’s heart suddenly pounded like a drum. “…Then what?”

Fuheng gave her a faint smile. There was neither guilt nor reluctance in that smile: “The nunnery outside the capital—that will be your home for the rest of your life!”

With that, he left the still-cursing Erqing behind and walked away without looking back.

The Jinchuan campaign had dragged on for a long time. The previous commander, Neqin, had already been escorted back to the capital in chains. Because of his cowardice and fear of battle, which led to heavy losses of soldiers and officers, Hongli had stripped him of his official hat and peacock feather.

Fuheng was now taking over his post… but no one in the court or among the people considered this a good assignment. On the contrary, everyone regarded it as a hot potato no one wanted to touch.

Even the members of the Fucha family felt the same. As soon as he returned home, his wife, his parents, relatives, and friends all came to the door one after another to him, hoping he would give up this commission. Even if it meant incurring Hongli’s anger, it would still be better than being wrapped in a horse’s hide and dying on the frontier.

Even the young maid who served him, Qinglian, set down the tea tray gently when bringing him tea and said worriedly, “Young Master, are you really going to Jinchuan? This servant has heard that the army has suffered heavy losses and no one in the court dares to take command. If you go now, how dangerous it will be…”

The assignment had already been issued, yet Fuheng did not slack off for a moment. After court, instead of joining his colleagues for pleasure on a flower boat, he returned home, took a military book from the shelf, and began reading. When he heard Qinglian’s words, he set the book down and asked, “Qinglian, did Old Madam send you?”

Qinglian was startled and quickly lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Young Master, this servant spoke out of turn. But Old Madam is so worried she has fallen ill. She said that if you refuse to give up this post, she will never see you again…”

“Afraid of battle, terrified of death, shrinking back and refusing to advance—what’s the point of studying military books then? What’s the point of becoming an officer?” Fuheng sighed. “If the old madam asks again, just tell her this: Fuheng has gone to do what he truly wants to do. Please ask her to forgive me.”

“On the battlefield the swords and sabers have no eyes. What if… doesn’t the young master have anyone in his heart that he cares about?” Qinglian saw his expression change and hurriedly lowered her head. “It was this servant’s fault. This servant spoke wrongly…”

Those words seemed to strike a chord deep in Fuheng’s heart. He gripped the military book tightly, standing motionless in front of the bookshelf like a handsome statue. After a long while, he suddenly tossed the book aside. “I’m going out for a bit.”

“Young Master!” Qinglian called after him. “It’s almost dark—where are you going?!”

A single rider galloped away in a cloud of dust, charging out of the Fuheng residence.

Fame and honor are seized on horseback. Fuheng’s horsemanship was outstanding; he spurred the horse into a full gallop. Passersby only felt a gust of wind roar past, and when they turned to look, they saw nothing but rising dust in the air.

“Whoa!” Fuheng suddenly reined in hard. The horse reared, hooves pawing the air, before stamping back down.

Inside the Yuanming Garden, a group of palace servants were carrying out the final sweeping and cleaning.

“Hm?” Wei Yingluo, broom in hand, turned around. “Strange, I thought I just heard hoofbeats.”

The shadow of a tree swayed. A hand parted the thick green foliage, reaching toward her.

“You’ve stood too long in the sun—you’re hallucinating.” A hand suddenly landed on Wei Yingluo’s shoulder. Yuan Chunwang leaned half his body against hers, speaking lazily. “Quick, I’m about to collapse. Take me back and pour some water over my head.”

“Hey, hold on a little longer!” Wei Yingluo instantly forgot about the hoofbeats. She half-supported, half-dragged him away.

Behind them came a soft sigh.

“What’s the use of telling her these things now?” Fuheng slowly withdrew his hand and murmured to himself. “Wait until I come back alive…”

A general may die in a hundred battles; a brave man returns after ten years. Since he could not promise her a date of return, why make her wait in vain? Better to go alone.

“Ride!”

The sound of hooves rang out again, carrying the words he could not say aloud, carrying a general’s resolve to face death, and departed from the Yuanming Garden.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 111: Exile

   A wooden tray was presented in front of Wei Yingluo.

On it lay three items, from left to right: a dagger, white silk, and a bottle of crane-top red poison.

“Yingluo,” said the old eunuch holding the tray, his face kind and benevolent. “This is a special courtesy granted only because of your absolute loyalty to the Empress. For anyone else, it would be nothing more than a single rope around the neck. Choose one yourself.”

Wei Yingluo smiled slightly, filled with an indescribable sense of freedom.

Without the slightest hesitation, she picked up the white-jade-like medicine bottle. A relieved smile curved her lips—like someone utterly exhausted who had finally found the medicine that would let them sleep forever.

She slowly unscrewed the bottle, closed her eyes, and brought it to her lips.

But before the crane-top red could touch her mouth, a hand suddenly reached out from the side and knocked the bottle away.

Wei Yingluo opened her eyes and saw Li Yu standing beside her, panting heavily as if he had run all the way here, his forehead covered in dense beads of sweat. It took him quite a while to catch his breath before he spoke:

“Wei Yingluo, His Majesty has pardoned you. You don’t have to die!”

Yet Wei Yingluo showed no gratitude. She replied coldly, “Why?”

Her expression made it seem as though the pardon was not a mercy granted to her, but a living torment.

As if he had already anticipated this reaction, Li Yu sighed and handed her the letter that Hongli had instructed him to deliver.

“This is the Empress’s final decree.”

Wei Yingluo was stunned. She snatched the letter from his hand and hurriedly unfolded it. The words inside read:

“To the Emperor: Once I; Rongyin departs, it will be an eternal farewell. Only my maid, Yingluo, is loyal, upright, and unyielding—too resolute to bend. She is not suited to remain in the palace. I beseech Your Majesty to permit her to leave the palace and grant her freedom. I wish you take good care of yourself. Respectfully, Fucha Rongyin.”

   “Your Ladyship…” Tears welled up in Wei Yingluo’s eyes. One hot teardrop had just begun to fall when she quickly lifted her hand to catch it, preventing it from landing on the paper and smudging the last thing her Ladyship had left for her.

“But while the death penalty may be spared, lesser punishments are hard to escape,” Li Yu said from the side. “Wei Yingluo, His Majesty commands you to set out at once. You are to remain in the Changchun Immortal Pavilion at the Yuanmingyuan, guarding the Empress’s memorial portrait, and you are never to return to the Forbidden City for the rest of your life!”

Yuanmingyuan.

   Dressed in plain green robes, Wei Yingluo held a broom in her hand, looking exactly like a newly arrived palace maid assigned to sweeping duties. She gazed at the lake-and-mountain scenery before her, the pavilions and towers—for other palace women and concubines, being banished here would feel like entering a cold palace. But for Wei Yingluo, it was a peach-blossom paradise of seclusion.

No more need to entangle herself in the palace’s schemes and deceptions, no more constant vigilance against hidden arrows shot from front or behind. Though food, clothing, and daily necessities were much simpler here, there was one advantage no other place could offer.

“Your ladyship.” Wei Yingluo walked into the Changchun Immortal Pavilion and looked at the memorial portrait before her.

Three sticks of sandalwood incense burned on the offering table, thin white smoke curling upward and drifting gently across the face of the statue.

Skilled artisans had carved the Empress’s features into white jade. At first glance, it looked vividly lifelike—as though the Empress were gazing down from a high platform with gentle, compassionate, almost Bodhisattva-like eyes, smiling softly at Wei Yingluo.

Wei Yingluo set the broom aside, knelt reverently on the apricot-yellow meditation cushion, pressed her palms together, closed her eyes in prayer, then kowtowed three resounding times before rising again. Picking up the broom, she walked back outside.

Compared to the imperial palace, Yuanmingyuan was her true home.

Here, she could spend day and night in the company of the Empress’s memorial portrait, imagining that Niangniang was still by her side, patiently guiding her hand to write characters…

Swish— Without brush or ink, Wei Yingluo used the broom to trace strokes on the ground.

“Quite leisurely and carefree, aren’t you?” A teasing voice suddenly sounded behind her.

Wei Yingluo turned and exclaimed in surprise, “Brother! How are you here?”

Yuan Chunwang was dressed in the same plain palace-servant attire as she was, carrying a bucket used for sprinkling and sweeping. He smiled and said, “I’ve been transferred to Yuanmingyuan.”

“You already manage the storeroom of the Internal Affairs Department, and you’ve earned the favor of Noble Consort Xian,” Wei Yingluo murmured. “A bright future was right in front of you. You… how could you…”

He reached out and lightly flicked her forehead with his finger, laughing. “Whether it’s the golden hall of the throne or the endless torments of hell, we’ll always be together. You promised me yourself—have you forgotten everything?”

Yingluo touched her forehead. “I don’t think those were your exact words.”

Yuan Chunwang let out an “Oh.” “Just a few words shorter: share blessings together, share hardships together.”

That was missing more than just a few words.

Wei Yingluo fell silent for a long moment before saying, “Have you gone mad? You worked so hard to climb up, finally got your chance—and now you’re throwing it all away!”

Yuan Chunwang scooped up a ladle of water from the bucket and sprinkled it over the flower bed, saying with perfect calm, “Good that you know! Remember everything I’ve done for you today. Don’t ever disappoint me, or I swear I won’t let you off.”

Wei Yingluo felt both moved and guilty. Looking at his sweat-soaked back, she suddenly stepped forward, snatched the bucket from his hand, and said, “I’ve already finished sweeping my side. Let me help you water the flowers for a while. You go sit over there and rest!”

Although the Yuanmingyuan was vast, there were never enough hands. From spring to autumn, the two of them helped each other: you sweep my section of the ground for a while, I water your flowers for a bit; I feed you a mouthful of rice, you give me a sip of water. They tasted the sweet, sour, bitter, and spicy of life together; they walked the uncertain road side by side, supporting one another. Many things happened during that time—for example, Fuheng led troops on campaign to Jinchuan; and also… a state cannot go a single day without an empress, so Noble Consort Xian was conferred the title of Empress.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 110: Bestowed Death

   Dong, dong, dong—

Wei Yingluo’s footsteps paused. She looked toward the direction of the bell tolls, her heart pounding uncontrollably for some reason.

In her hand she carried a box containing gifts she had brought from home: a few simple folk snacks and some children’s toys bought from the street—nothing particularly rare, just a small token of affection.

The items had been prepared by Wei Qingtai. He always believed that a servant should not only perform duties well but also occasionally send gifts to those above, to keep the relationship warm.

Wei Yingluo remained cool and distant toward him. She could not forget the events of her childhood, could not forget the suffering she and her sister endured because of him, and especially could not forget how lightly he had forgiven the true culprit.

Only for the Empress’s sake had she gone home once. She had planned to return to the palace overnight, but unexpectedly Wei Qingtai lowered his pride and called out to her departing figure, “Wei Yingluo, you can hate me, never forgive me for the rest of your life—but tonight is New Year’s Eve. Stay, have this reunion dinner with me, won’t you?”

Wei Yingluo slowly turned her head and looked at him with complicated emotions.

His hair had turned white, the wrinkles on his face had deepened. Though he had been promoted, there was no trace of joy on him—only the loneliness peculiar to the elderly and a longing for family reunion.

In the end, Wei Yingluo sighed and returned to the table. “What are we eating tonight?”

After the meal, the time to return to the palace had already passed, so Wei Yingluo had no choice but to stay overnight at home. The next morning, reluctantly accepting the gift box that Wei Qingtai insisted on giving her, she waited outside the palace gate.

And it was there that she heard this ominous bell.

“This is a funeral bell,” the guard in charge of opening the gate said in surprise. “What happened in the palace? Which noble lady has passed away?”

A guard rushed out from inside the palace, his face full of panic. “The Empress has passed away! The Empress has passed away!”

Wei Yingluo froze. The New Year’s gift slipped from her hand and fell to the ground. Suddenly she pushed the two men aside and ran frantically toward the Changchun Palace.

From afar, she heard waves of crying. Upon entering the hall, she was met with a sea of white mourning banners hanging everywhere throughout the palace. All the servants in the palace had changed into white clothing, and even the silk flowers pinned in their hair had been replaced with plain white ones.

Wei Yingluo searched through the crowd and found Ming Yu. She grabbed the other’s shoulders and demanded, “What happened?”

Ming Yu was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, unable to utter a complete sentence for a long while. Wei Yingluo couldn’t wait any longer. She simply let go and rushed frantically toward the direction of the bedchamber.

Behind her, Ming Yu finally regained her voice and cried hoarsely, “Don’t look—Her Ladyship, right now she—”

The door to the chamber creaked open. Wei Yingluo stood frozen, staring at the Empress on the bed.

A brocade quilt covered her from head to toe.

Drip, drip—fresh blood trickled down from one corner of the quilt, pooling into a circle of red on the floor. Wei Yingluo gazed at that bloodstain, her hands and feet turning ice-cold. She didn’t dare step forward, didn’t have the courage to lift that corner of the quilt…

“Changchun Palace was suddenly engulfed in flames, and the Seventh Prince perished in the fire. Her Ladyship was overwhelmed with grief and threw herself from the corner tower…” Erqing sobbed in pain behind her. “Yingluo, why were you one day late? Why didn’t you return before dusk? Why! Why did you come back so late?!”

“Why didn’t I come back earlier…” Wei Yingluo murmured to herself, over and over. “Why didn’t I come back earlier…”

She stood numbly by the bedside, forgetting to eat, forgetting to sleep, forgetting the passage of time, forgetting herself and everything around her—as if she had become a paper effigy meant for burial with the deceased, standing vigil over her master in the coffin, day after day, month after month, until the paper yellowed and her body decayed.

Until Hongli’s voice sounded beside her, in an extremely calm tone: “Immediately prepare to change the Empress’s clothes and do her hair. I want the Empress to depart with dignity and grace.”

Two maids passed by her side in a stream—one carrying a cosmetics case, the other holding splendid robes—ready to dress and adorn the deceased Empress once more. But unexpectedly, Wei Yingluo suddenly swung her hand and knocked over the cosmetics case beside her.

The box fell to the ground, and the pearl hairpins, jade rings, and ornaments inside scattered with a clatter.

Everyone gasped in shock, yet Wei Yingluo spoke with extreme calm: “Your Majesty, this servant will clean the bloodstains from Her Ladyship, but she has already chosen to cast aside all jewelry and adornments. These burdensome things—let them be spared!”

Hongli said coldly, “She is the Empress. She cannot depart in plain mourning clothes!”

Ming Yu hurriedly tugged at Wei Yingluo. Wei Yingluo shook off her arm and stared at Hongli. “Your Majesty, if Her Ladyship cared about worldly reputation, she would not have leaped from such a height. I beg Your Majesty to show mercy and allow Her Ladyship to leave unburdened and free!”

Hongli: “Ming Yu, go and prepare the Empress.”

Wei Yingluo: “Your Majesty!”

Hongli stared at the Empress beneath the brocade quilt, speaking as if to Wei Yingluo, yet more as if to the Empress herself: “She will forever be my Empress. She will not leave with a heart free of attachments, nor can she depart in freedom. This is her fate!”

Afraid that Wei Yingluo would anger Hongli again, Ming Yu quickly knelt down, gathered every scattered pearl hairpin and jade ring back into the case, then carried the cosmetics box back to the Empress’s side. Just as she was about to lift the quilt to begin the preparations, Wei Yingluo pressed down on her hand.

“Is Your Majesty speaking so lightly because you blame Her Ladyship for taking her own life and committing a grave sin?” Wei Yingluo fixed her gaze on Hongli.

Hongli gradually grew angry, though it was unclear whether his rage was directed at the Empress or at himself: “As Empress, to be so weak, so useless—I will never forgive her!”

“Your Majesty!” Wei Yingluo was furious too. “Her Ladyship endured icy chills in her body and excruciating pain in her bones, yet she still risked death to give birth to the Seventh Prince! Everyone says she did it to secure her position as Empress—no! Her Ladyship knew deeply that Your Majesty desired a legitimate heir to inherit the throne! Because Your Majesty needed it, she sacrificed herself, even at the cost of her life! And the result? On New Year’s Eve, the agony of losing her son pierced her heart like a blade—unbearable, unbearable! Your Majesty, sitting every day in the Yangxin Hall, did you ever hear Her ladyship desperate cries for help? She was waiting for you to save her!”

Ming Yu hurriedly pulled at her arm: “Yingluo, stop talking!”

Unfortunately, because of the Empress’s death, Wei Yingluo had gradually lost her reason. The words she could only bury deep in her heart were now all spoken aloud:

“Your Majesty, the Empress truly loved you. She treated everyone in the six palaces with genuine sincerity. Yet her true heart was met with your neglect and the schemes and calculations of the other consorts! Everyone laughed at the Empress for being foolish. No! She wasn’t foolish at all. She was born intelligent, but she simply could not bear it. She could not bear to harm the other women trapped in this deep palace, and even more, she could not bear to hurt Your Majesty’s heart! But Your Majesty, why couldn’t you give her just a little pity, a little love? Why were you so cold and ruthless? Is your heart made of ice?!”

Hongli’s face turned livid with anger. He suddenly closed his eyes and said, “Li Yu!”

Li Yu: “This servant is here!”

Hongli: “Wei Yingluo has repeatedly violated taboos and committed great disobedience. Grant her permission to commit suicide so she may accompany the Empress in death.”

Ming Yu’s legs gave way beneath her. She dropped to her knees with a thud and kowtowed nonstop: “No, Your Majesty, please no! Yingluo, beg His Majesty for mercy—quickly, please!”

Wei Yingluo did not kneel.

To avenge her sister, to survive in this man-eating Forbidden City, she had knelt before so many people, so many times. Now, at last, she no longer had to kneel.

She let out a breath of relief and smiled as if her wish had finally been granted: “This servant is willing to follow the Empress forever. Thank you, Your Majesty, for your grace.”

With a wave of Li Yu’s hand, eunuchs stepped forward and took Wei Yingluo away.

“Yingluo! Yingluo!” Ming Yu crawled back to Hongli’s feet while sobbing and kowtowed hard. “Your Majesty, the Empress loved Yingluo the most—you cannot do this!”

Hongli didn’t even glance at her. He stood rigidly by the bed, gazing at the Empress lying there, his voice calm as dead water: “Precisely because she was the servant the Empress loved most, I am sending her to accompany the Empress.”

Ming Yu froze.

Two palace maids passed by her, each holding a cosmetics case and luxurious clothing. Ming Yu trembled on her knees for a moment, then suddenly rushed forward and knocked the box to the ground.

Everyone looked at her in shock. After Wei Yingluo’s suicidal behavior, someone else actually dared to follow in her footsteps.

The sound of the cosmetics case hitting the floor rang out. Hongli slowly turned his face and looked at her coldly.

Ming Yu’s face went pale with fright, but she still gathered her courage and spoke to Hongli word by word: “The Empress would never allow Yingluo to be buried with her. Your Majesty, you don’t understand the Empress at all—not even a little!”

“You—” Hongli flew into a rage and was about to order her to be sent for martyrdom as well, when his gaze suddenly dropped downward.

A letter lay on the ground between the two of them.

   It seemed… to have fallen out of the cosmetics case along with the jewelry.

   Hongli was silent for a long moment. He bent down, picked up the letter from the floor, unfolded it—and his expression changed instantly.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 109: Bereavement [Part 2]

   The Fucha Residence.

   Erqing’s belly had grown even larger, making movement increasingly difficult. Most of the time she spent like today—sitting in a chair, allowing the maid beside her to rub her shoulders, feed her, and tell amusing stories to keep her entertained.

“Where has Fuheng gone?” Erqing asked after eating a red date.

Du Juan quickly replied, “An urgent military dispatch arrived today. The young master was summoned to the palace by imperial decree. At this hour, he should be in Yangxin Hall.”

Erqing smiled. “The Empress has just lost the Seventh Prince. His Majesty is the child’s own father, and Fuheng is his blood uncle—yet neither of those two men is by the Empress’s side. Men truly can be so heartless!”

Du Juan lowered her head, neither willing nor daring to respond.

Such a terrible calamity had struck the Empress. The news had reached the Fucha family overnight. The old madam had immediately fainted. When she awoke, she kept weeping. Her eyes had never been very good to begin with; now, after so much crying, they were even worse. The old master and his wife had always been deeply devoted. Seeing his wife in such a state pained him deeply. Overnight, a great deal of his hair had turned white.

Fuheng need not even be mentioned. He had left the house that day with a taut, grim face. Anyone who knew his temperament understood that this trip to the palace was almost certainly to seek justice for his elder sister.

Throughout the entire household, only Erqing remained completely unmoved. She paid no attention at all to the Empress’s tragedy and still had the leisure to enjoy flowers and eat several extra dates.

She bit into another date, chewed for a moment, then held out her hand. Du Juan reached over. Erqing spat the pit into her palm, then took out a handkerchief to wipe her mouth and said, “I am the Empress’s sister-in-law. It is only proper that I go to the palace in place of Mother to visit Her Majesty. Don’t you think so?”

Du Juan was startled. “But the young master forbade you from going out…”

“Think carefully before you speak to me again.” Erqing gently stroked her abdomen and said slowly, “Fuheng is your master now. But the one here—” she patted her belly lightly—” will be your master in the future…”

Du Juan looked at her belly, her expression complicated.

“Let’s go.” Erqing extended her hand, indicating for Du Juan to help her up. “Take me into the palace.”

The arrival of this unexpected guest startled Ming Yu.

“Why are you here?” she asked. Her voice was somewhat hoarse, and her eyes were red-rimmed—she had clearly been crying all night.

“I’ve come to visit Her Majesty the Empress,” Erqing replied.

Ming Yu hesitated and glanced toward the depths of the bedroom. Inside it was pitch dark; all the windows were tightly shut, the thick curtains drawn. The silence was like that of an enormous tomb: “Her Majesty does not wish to see anyone right now.”

Erqing sighed. “I know. But the more someone stays alone, the easier it is for wild thoughts to take hold. Let me sit with Her Majesty and talk to her—just the two of us.”

Seeing that Ming Yu was still hesitating, Erqing gently tugged at her hand, as intimate as in the old days: “In the past, I was the one who understood Niangniang’s heart best, and as a daughter-in-law of the Fucha family, it is truly my duty to care for and comfort her. Ming Yu, let me go in. Even if I can’t persuade Niangniang, at least I can be some consolation.”

If Ming Yu could have persuaded the Empress herself, she wouldn’t have needed help—but she was never good with words, and the sharp-tongued Wei Yingluo just happened to be away. In the end, she could only pin her hopes on this old acquaintance from Changchun Palace. With a sigh she said, “Alright then, go in and try.”

Erqing smiled coyishly and walked into the sleeping chamber.

Watching the door close in front of her, Ming Yu murmured softly, “Yingluo… when are you coming back…”

“Ming Yu Jiejie!” Zhenzhu’s voice came from the side. “The imperial physician is asking for you…”

“Coming, coming!”

Once the Empress fell ill, Changchun Palace lost its pillar of support. All the big and small matters fell onto Ming Yu’s shoulders.

After handling things for only half a day, Ming Yu already felt overwhelmed and powerless. In her heart she missed Wei Yingluo more and more: “All these messy affairs should be handed over to her—she could sort everything out neatly and clearly, yet I only make things worse and worse…”

By the time she finished dealing with everything, she was utterly exhausted. Suddenly remembering that Erqing was still inside the sleeping chamber, she hurried back, just in time to see the door open and Erqing step out, a faint smile on her face as though something pleasant had happened.

“How did it go?” Ming Yu asked hopefully. “Is Her Ladyship feeling better?”

Erqing smiled: “With me there talking to her, of course she’s feeling much better.”

Ming Yu let out a long breath of relief. In a moment of carelessness, her deepest worry slipped out: “I was so afraid Her Ladyship might… think of something drastic…”

Realizing her slip, she quickly shut her mouth. Erqing tactfully pretended not to have heard those last words and simply smiled: “Don’t worry. Her Ladyship is magnanimous and open-hearted; she will understand sooner or later. It’s getting late—I should leave before the palace gates are locked for the night. You take good care of the Empress.”

Ming Yu saw Erqing off, then lingered for a while at the palace gate. Only when the sun had set and the vermilion gates closed heavily did she sigh, realizing Wei Yingluo would not be returning tonight. With a dejected expression, she returned to Changchun Palace.

The palace maids lit the candles.

Perhaps because her heart felt so desolate, even the candle flames looked to her like bright teardrops.

Ming Yu stared blankly at the candle on the table until a sudden voice came from behind: “Ming Yu.”

She immediately came back to herself and rushed to the bedside: “Your Ladyship!”

The Empress had woken up at some point. She slowly turned her head; her eyes were clear and lucid. Though she looked haggard from the severity of her injuries, her voice and demeanor had returned to their usual gentleness: “I’m hungry. I want something to eat.”

“Good, good.” Ming Yu smiled through her tears. “This servant will immediately tell the small kitchen to prepare something.”

The Empress said: “Untie the ropes first.”

“This…” A trace of hesitation crossed Ming Yu’s face.

“What? Are you planning to keep me bound forever?” The Empress gave her a soft smile. “I’m already better.”

Ming Yu carefully studied her for a moment. Seeing that her expression was normal again, with no trace of madness left, she finally set aside her lingering doubts and carefully untied the ropes.

After being freed, the Empress did not act out. She only gently rubbed her wrists where the rope marks remained and said quietly, “I want to eat the sweet rice cakes that you make.”

“Good, good.” After nodding, Ming Yu hesitated again. “But making it now will take quite a while. You haven’t had a drop of water or a grain of rice all day—how about letting the kitchen prepare some coix seed congee first?”

The Empress shook her head, showing a touch of stubbornness: “No. I only want the sweet rice cakes you make.”

“Alright then.” Unable to refuse her, Ming Yu said, “This servant will go make it right away. Niangniang, please rest well. As soon as it’s ready, I’ll bring it to you.”

Watching her hurried departing figure, the Empress suddenly called out: “By the way… has Yingluo returned?”

“No.” Ming Yu shook her head, feeling deep regret in her heart. If only Yingluo could be by her side, surely the Empress would feel much better.

The Empress said in disappointment, “I understand. You may go.”

The Empress did not truly want to eat sweet rice cakes. She deliberately chose this time-consuming snack just to send Ming Yu away.

Not long after Ming Yu left, the Empress slowly got down from the bed and walked out of the sleeping chamber step by step.

A cold wind blew across the bare branches. The jasmine flowers had somehow withered away at some point, leaving only dry twigs swaying in the wind—an indescribable bleakness and desolation.

The Empress’s gaze passed over the empty branches, looking distantly toward the nearby corner tower. A similarly desolate and forlorn smile appeared on her face as she said softly, “In this life of mine, every step has been a mistake.”

She pulled the hairpin from her head and carelessly tossed it to the ground, laughing as she said, “By nature I hate restraint, yet I married into the imperial family and became the Empress of Great Qing.”

One bright moon earring fell to the ground and was mercilessly crushed under her shoe. She raised her hand to remove the other moon earring from her ear, smiling as she continued, “If only I could have contentedly served as a model for the six palaces, that would have been fine. But I became greedy for romantic love and childlike affection, delusionally hoping to win the Emperor’s love…”

Gold hairpins, step-shakers, earrings, jade rings—one by one they fell from her body, just like her stubborn past, her stubborn duties, her stubborn love.

Before she realized it, the Empress was wearing nothing but a plain white garment. She stood atop the high corner tower, her robes fluttering in the wind.

“One mistake after another. My greatest mistake was giving birth to Yonglian—Yongcong.” She closed her eyes in pain. “The two of you should never have come to me. As your mother, I was unable to protect you. Everything is my fault…”

A light patter of rain began to fall from the sky, mixed with fine snow. The Empress slowly opened her eyes to look at the heavens. She raised her hand to catch a flake of rain-snow; the snow melted in her palm. An unbearable bitterness filled her heart—it felt as though even Heaven was punishing her. When the warm chamber caught fire, there had been no rain from the sky. Yet now, at this moment, rain suddenly began to fall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She said the words three times—sorry to her clan, to the Emperor, to her two children who died young. Finally, with tears in her eyes, she smiled and said, “I’m sorry, Yingluo. I promised to wait for your return to the palace, but unfortunately, I can’t wait any longer… Still, you must be happy for me. From now on, I am no longer the Empress. I am only Fucha Rongyin. I am—simply Fucha Rongyin!”

Suddenly she spread her arms wide, like a white bird taking flight, and leaped from the corner tower of the Forbidden City.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said bring ropes!” Hongli barked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” Ming Yu replied.

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

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

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

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

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

Li Yu: “Yes, Your Majesty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   New Year’s Eve had arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wei Yingluo’s face froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crash—

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

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

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

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

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

The warm pavilion—Yongcong’s current residence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Good news is good news only to some people.

   To others, it is catastrophic misfortune.

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

Yuhu: “Yes.”

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

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

At the entrance to Changchun Palace.

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

One man, one woman, one child.

A perfect family of three.

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

Then she saw the scene she least wanted to see.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   At the same moment, outside Zhongcui Palace.

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

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

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

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

She withdrew the fan and continued forward with a smile.

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

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 105: Happy News

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ming Yu was stunned. “So suddenly?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yingluo!”

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

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

The fanning motion stopped abruptly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yongcong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The joyful news was not limited to Changchun Palace.

   Several months later, at the Fucha residence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You—!” Fuheng trembled with rage.

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

She suddenly fell silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuheng froze on the spot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 104: Childbirth

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

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

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

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

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

Lord Hongli remained silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Empress forced her eyes open and looked at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Erqing replied.

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

Night, eastern side hall.

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

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

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

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

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

The young eunuch shrank back and dared not speak again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out!” Hongli roared.

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

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

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