Chapter 78
Proofreader : Mim
The next morning, after court was dismissed, Xie Lanxu had just stepped out of the main hall when he ran into Xie Jingtan.
“Prince Jing, what brings you here?”
“I came to pay my respects to my mother consort. I’m just about to leave the palace,” Xie Jingtan replied with a smile.
The two exchanged polite bows, each wearing an expression that suggested they were unaware of the other’s true intentions. Side by side, they walked toward Chunyu Gate in perfect harmony, masking the undercurrent of hidden agendas.
“So, what does the Prince Langya think of the matter I brought up earlier?” Xie Jingtan asked casually, as if they were merely chatting about mundane topics.
“I was just about to find an opportunity to respond to you,” Xie Lanxu said calmly. “Fickle loyalty isn’t my style. I can only acknowledge your kindness and decline.”
Xie Lanxu’s answer took Xie Jingtan completely by surprise.
“Do you mean to say you have no interest in uncovering who falsely accused the Crown Prince of treason?” Xie Jingtan asked, incredulous.
“A nation has its laws, and a family has its rules,” Xie Lanxu said evenly. “The matter has already been concluded and laid to rest. I have no intention of stirring up trouble again. It would do neither the nation nor the dynasty any good.”
Xie Jingtan stared at him as if he were some sort of alien creature.
“But he was your biological father! Don’t you want to clear his name?”
“Mind your words, Prince Jing,” Xie Lanxu said, his tone steady. “I trust His Majesty’s wisdom and fairness. He would never wrong a loyal subject.”
“You—! You’re just a dog biting Lu Dongbin!” Xie Jingtan exclaimed angrily, using the idiom about repaying kindness with ingratitude. “Fine, if that’s how you feel, then I won’t waste any more breath. From now on, we’ll rely on our own abilities!”
With that, Xie Jingtan stormed off, his face dark with fury.
Xie Lanxu, unfazed, continued walking toward his office as if nothing had happened.
In the palace, secrets were hard to keep—especially when they concerned someone under the Emperor’s watchful eye.
The encounter outside the main hall was quickly reported to the imperial garden. The Emperor, seated by the Qianli Pond, was leisurely fishing. Around him, braziers radiated warmth, and two palace maids carefully massaged his shoulders.
The Emperor’s trusted eunuch, Gao Shan, stood nearby, holding a fishing rod. He remained as still as a statue, his cold and lifeless demeanor matching the air of a carved stone figure.
A palace servant approached, bowed deeply, and whispered something into the Emperor’s ear.
Hearing this, the Emperor chuckled in mild surprise, though Gao Shan’s expression remained impassive, as if he had heard nothing.
“These carp just refuse to take the bait,” Emperor Xie Shencong mused aloud.
“Your Majesty is correct,” Gao Shan replied, bowing even lower. “Carp in winter are cunning—they won’t be easily caught.”
“What do you think…” The Emperor’s gaze lingered on the still surface of the pond. “Do you think he truly harbors no resentment, or is he pretending to let go in order to lower my guard?”
Gao Shan’s tone was layered with subtle meaning. “If it’s an act, it won’t last forever. Sooner or later, the truth will come out.”
“The highest position belongs to me alone,” the Emperor sighed. “They won’t understand my burdens until they’ve sat in this seat. Even a tiger does not eat its cubs… Do you think I wanted to lose my eldest son in the prime of my life?”
Gao Shan wisely remained silent.
“In my heart, I feel a little relieved… relieved that Prince Langya hasn’t taken my bait,” the Emperor said. “If the worst can be avoided, I’d still like to leave a bloodline for my eldest.”
“Does Your Majesty now feel comfortable letting Prince Langya assist Prince Feng?” Gao Shan asked.
“Comfortable? Not entirely,” the Emperor admitted, shaking his head. “He’s too clever, and Prince Feng isn’t his equal. While I’m still alive, it’s fine. But I worry—once I’m gone, Prince Feng might not be able to hold his ground.”
“Your Majesty is still young and has plenty of time to guide Prince Feng,” Gao Shan said respectfully.
Though the Emperor modestly mentioned the strands of white hair that had begun to appear on his head, he couldn’t help feeling a bit pleased.
How many emperors in history could boast of only growing white hair at the age of fifty-seven?
Standing next to his sons, people might even mistake him for their brother.
“Enough. These fish won’t bite today; let’s leave them be,” the Emperor said, rising to his feet. “Gao Shan, accompany me to Jiangxue Palace to visit Consort Lu.”
“As you command,” Gao Shan replied, bowing his head.
The fishing line flew out of the pond, leaving ripples across the surface.
As the days passed, the winter ice on the pond grew thicker and thicker, until only the occasional flicker of bright fish tails could be seen beneath the frozen layer.
—-
Before anyone knew it, it was New Year’s Eve.
Noble Consort Yi had spent weeks meticulously preparing a performance of the Jinghong Dance, a mesmerizing dance inspired by exotic movements. She intended to dazzle everyone at the palace banquet and reclaim the Emperor’s affection, which had been slipping from her grasp.
After a month of grueling practice, her efforts were rendered pointless before the performance even began—defeated by Consort Lu’s sudden wave of nausea.
When Consort Lu began to retch silently at the banquet, the Emperor immediately summoned the imperial physician to check her pulse. Upon learning that Consort Lu was two months pregnant with the royal heir, the Emperor was overjoyed.
Right then and there, he promoted Consort Lu to the rank of Jieyu (Consort of the Fourth Rank) and ordered her to focus on her health for the sake of the child.
The New Year’s Eve banquet continued, but its leading figure was gone.
The Emperor, glowing with happiness, escorted the newly promoted Consort Lu back to her quarters. Their affection and harmony left Noble Consort Yi seething with jealousy in her Yaohua Palace.
In a fit of rage, Noble Consort Yi grabbed a pair of scissors and shredded her brilliant red dance gown into ribbons.
“My lady, please calm yourself! If you harm your health from anger, what will we do?” her maid pleaded desperately.
“Yes, Your Grace!”
A group of devoted palace maids surrounded the tear-streaked Noble Consort Yi, their faces filled with concern.
Noble Consort Yi threw down the scissors and the shredded remains of her crimson dance gown. Her carefully painted makeup—hours of effort—was ruined, smeared by her tears.
“What a humiliation! A mere fourth-rank consort, and she dares to disgrace me like this!”
“Your Grace—”
“I thought she was young, low-born, and ignorant, but I didn’t expect her to be so cunning and malicious! She stole the spotlight at the New Year’s Eve banquet, all without saying a single word!” Noble Consort Yi wailed, her round face filled with grievance. “Ever since she served the Emperor, she’s been seducing him day after day. Does she even consider that I am the Imperial Consort?”
The palace servants, seeing her distress, couldn’t help but start brainstorming ways to help.
“Your Grace, should we summon Prince Feng?”
“No!” Noble Consort Yi hastily wiped her tears. “I must shield my son from the storms of the court! How could I let him see me like this?”
“Not now, of course,” one maid suggested carefully. “But Your Grace could take Prince Feng to see the Emperor more often. If Concubine Li can distract the Emperor with that unsightly Sixth Princess, surely His Majesty, who favors Prince Feng, would respond even better.”
“I have only one son,” Noble Consort Yi choked out, shaking her head and rejecting the suggestion. “I don’t want him entangled in the petty struggles of the harem.”
“Then…”
The other maids exchanged glances, wracking their brains to come up with a better plan.
Noble Consort Yi had been chosen as princess consort by the emperor of the last dynasty for the crown prince of the time. After the dynasty’s fall, the current Emperor took her into his court with the title of Imperial Consort and had favored her ever since.
Though her reputation in the palace was not stellar, the servants of Yaohua Palace were genuinely fond of her.
Unlike other mistresses who vented their anger by beating servants or handing out cruel punishments, Noble Consort Yi’s anger was either directed at inanimate objects or expressed through sitting on her couch, sobbing until her maids swarmed to comfort her.
When she was happy, she rewarded her servants generously, throwing gold bracelets and jade earrings around as if it were raining. Naturally, the palace servants enjoyed serving her.
After some time, Noble Consort Yi’s dowry nanny dismissed the rest of the servants, staying behind to comfort her mistress. Seeing Noble Consort Yi sulking with her back turned, the nanny tried to coax her gently.
“Your Grace, what if…”
“What if?”
“If Consort Lu’s favor continues, and she gives birth to a prince, it might endanger Prince Feng.”
Noble Consort Yi sat up abruptly, her tear-swollen eyes blinking at the nanny in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, before Consort Lu gives birth to the child… perhaps it would be better if she didn’t give birth at all,” the nanny whispered.
Noble Consort Yi was stunned, her goldfish-like swollen eyes widening in shock.
“No!”
“But why, Your Grace? Please, think carefully—”
“No!” Noble Consort Yi cut her off again, her tone resolute.
Her mother’s advice echoed in her mind from when she first entered the palace: “You’re not clever. When in doubt, listen to your nanny. She’s my dowry maid and will never harm you.”
Most of the time, Noble Consort Yi followed this advice, and the nanny had indeed helped her through many difficult situations.
But this—this she could not agree to.
“The child is innocent! And besides—that’s the Emperor’s child!” No matter how much the nanny tried to persuade her, Noble Consort Yi stood firm. “I promised His Majesty that I would remain true to myself no matter how long I stayed in the palace. I will never stoop to harming innocent children just to gain favor, like the other women in the harem!”
“Your Grace—”
“Don’t say another word. My mind is made up!”
“Then… what about Consort Lu?”
“Don’t mention her name to me!” Noble Consort Yi cried, starting to sob again.
The nanny could only sigh helplessly at her mistress, who, even after all these years, still resembled a child. She picked up the shattered fragments of the vase and scattered objects on the floor before quietly leaving the main hall to give Noble Consort Yi time to compose herself.
The news of Lu Yao’s pregnancy reached Li Zhi’s ears that very evening.
But it wasn’t until the following evening that Li Zhi had the chance to visit Jiangxue Palace.
The Emperor had just left, his teacup still sitting on the side table. Two palace maids were tidying up the traces of his visit, while Li Zhi was invited to sit in the rear garden of Jiangxue Palace.
Because it was still early in her pregnancy, Lu Yao’s morning sickness was particularly severe. She could barely keep any food down, and her once plump face had noticeably thinned.
Li Zhi had brought a bowl of yam and goat milk porridge, which she had simmered all morning. Not wanting to disappoint her, Lu Yao forced herself to finish it, despite her nausea.
Perhaps it was Li Zhi’s imagination, but Lu Yao seemed to have matured since conceiving.
Her thoughtful expressions had grown deeper, and there were moments when even Li Zhi couldn’t guess what was going through her mind.
After watching her finish the porridge, Li Zhi accompanied Lu Yao for a walk in the garden, chatting idly as the evening breeze brushed against them.
Suddenly, Lu Yao asked, “Sister Li, what is your relationship with Prince Langya?”
“Why does the Consort ask?”
“It’s nothing,” Lu Yao said, her gaze steady on Li Zhi. “I’ve just heard that you and Prince Langya shared a deep bond during your time at Mingyue Tower. That you risked your life for him several times.”
Li Zhi’s expression remained calm. “Prince Langya helped me on the road to exile many times. I merely returned the favor, nothing more.”
“Sister Li, I know you come from a noble family. You’re the daughter of the Grand Chancellor. But I… my father was just a lowly ninth-rank official in the countryside. I don’t understand the rules of the capital, nor do I know whom to trust in the palace. All I know is that, in my darkest hour, you were the only one who stood up to help me. So you’re the only one I trust,” Lu Yao said, her eyes locking onto Li Zhi’s. “Can you protect me, Sister Li?”
“…I will do everything in my power to protect you,” Li Zhi replied.
“Why?”
Li Zhi felt as though an invisible hand was gripping her heart. The suffocating weight of blood—dark and murky, like the waters of the River Styx—rose into her throat, choking her words.
Her ears buzzed.
Her hoarse voice was barely audible.
At first, Lu Yao didn’t understand what she meant.
But slowly, her expression changed. Her bright, tearful eyes widened, filled with both shock and understanding.
An invisible bridge seemed to form between them, linking their hearts. In that moment, their shared suffering became one, binding them together in true empathy.
Li Zhi had the strange feeling that Lu Yao understood more than what had been said aloud. She had glimpsed the unspoken: the deep hatred and unyielding determination that Li Zhi carried in her heart.
“I understand,” Lu Yao said softly.
She placed her hand on her still-flat belly, her face showing neither the joy of impending motherhood nor the ease of acceptance. Instead, it was a mixture of confusion and struggle, as if grappling with a role she wasn’t ready to play.
Not long ago, she had still been a girl, pouting at her mother for some candy.
That wasn’t long ago at all, yet it now felt like an entire lifetime away.
“Sister Li, I will help you,” she said quietly. “Can you promise me one thing?”
“What is it?”
“When all this is over… send me home.”
