Yirong had no idea that there were others in the Imperial Garden. Upon returning to Duke Qiao’s Mansion, she didn’t even pause to rest before going to report to her mother-in-law, Madam Chen.
Madam Chen was frail and had been bedridden for years.
Yirong entered, sipped a cup of tea, and sat on a low stool by her bed. She chose her words carefully, speaking slowly as she recounted Empress Cui’s situation, all while softly comforting her, afraid that Madam Chen might not be able to bear it.
After hearing Yirong’s report, Madam Chen fell silent for a long time. She laboriously turned her face and patted Yirong’s hand. “Good child, thank you for making the trip.”
Yirong quickly helped her lie back down and tucked in the covers for her mother-in-law.
The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law exchanged a few bland words before Madam Chen pondered and asked, “What did your sister say?”
Yirong understood at once. “Sister said we should rest easy. Things will continue as they always have. Your Majesty has only met her once and said nothing much, conducting himself with perfect propriety everywhere. There’s no need to worry.”
Madam Chen pressed, “Only met once? Hasn’t Your Majesty come to pay respects? Were there any dishes bestowed?”
Of course, none of that had happened.
Yirong smiled. “Mother, even in ordinary families, a man avoids his brother’s wife. The rules in the palace are even stricter than out here. Besides, they’re of the same generation—Your Majesty calling on her wouldn’t make sense. It’s only proper that he hasn’t seen Sister.”
The new Emperor was clearly giving Empress Cui the cold shoulder, but to be honest, how well could he treat the widow of a brother he despised?
A bit of distance was still better than outright suppression or revenge.
“My daughter-in-law suddenly remembered something. There’s newly delivered tribute tea in Sister’s palace, so Your Majesty isn’t treating her harshly.”
Madam Chen’s lips twitched slightly as she asked what kind of tea it was.
Yirong spent some time carefully reassuring Madam Chen before taking her leave. She changed out of her outer garments and went to bathe.
After half a day out and long talks with Empress Cui and her daughter, Yirong was utterly exhausted. She fell asleep soon after her bath.
She was woken at dusk for dinner. Shui Zhi came in to report that the Sixth Young Master had official business tonight and would return late.
With Empress Cui’s distraught sobbing in the palace weighing on her mind, Yirong couldn’t eat much despite the spread before her. After dinner, she half-reclined on the bed, idly flipping through a travelogue without really reading it.
After the watchman’s first drum, Cui Cheng finally returned home. After a quick wash and bath, he climbed into bed, tossed aside the book Yirong had been reading, pinned her down, and kissed her a few times. “Tired?”
Yirong smiled. “I already rested this afternoon.”
There was nothing to hold back from Cui Cheng, so she recounted her morning visit to the palace in full detail.
Cui Cheng had been twirling a lock of Yirong’s dark hair around his finger, grinning playfully, but his expression gradually grew serious.
“You said Sister has lost so much weight she’s barely recognizable?” Cui Cheng wondered inwardly. He knew the Previous Emperor had many concubines. Though his sister wasn’t jealous, her relationship with the Previous Emperor had been as bland as water. Why would she grieve so deeply? Had something else happened?
Yirong nodded. “Yes, Sister wasn’t feeling well, so I couldn’t stay long. But she said there’s no need to worry about Your Majesty—he won’t take it out on our household.”
Cui Cheng still wasn’t reassured. He murmured, “I need to go into the palace and see for myself.”
He served in the Feilin Army, but men couldn’t enter the rear palace. Male relatives of consorts needed prior approval to visit.
Yirong smiled radiantly, opened the small drawer by the bed, and handed him a note. “Here—I figured you’d want to visit Sister personally. After walking around the Imperial Garden, I went to the Palace Gate Office to get this approved. Tomorrow’s our day off, so we can go together.”
Warmth flooded Cui Cheng’s heart, easing his tension. He pulled Yirong close. Gazing into her clear, bright eyes full of tender affection, he nearly lost control.
Yirong whispered a reminder, “It’s only been two months.”
His hands didn’t stop undressing her. Amused and exasperated, Yirong noted that he’d just been talking about visiting Empress Cui in the palace, yet here he was, thinking of this.
She wasn’t having it tonight. “We have to get up early for the palace tomorrow.”
Cui Cheng kissed her, mumbling vague agreement. Her thin spring garments slipped to the floor in moments. After a bout of kisses and caresses, they entwined and fell asleep.
–
The next day.
In the East Wing of Purple Chen Hall, the Emperor and Feilin Great General Fan Ying had discussed the Capital City’s defenses at length. After Fan Ying took his leave, the Emperor buried himself in memorials, approving them for an hour. Once everything was done and he’d eaten lunch, the Emperor spoke. “Where is she?”
Gao Fuliang’s calves trembled for no reason. He’d thought the Emperor, busy with state affairs, had forgotten yesterday’s young beauty. Delighted, he’d planned to stay silent.
He stepped forward meekly. “Your Majesty, this slave checked with the Palace Gate Office. Yesterday’s lady is the wife of Empress Cui’s younger brother, Cui Cheng—Sixth Young Madam of Duke Qiao’s Mansion. Her maiden name is Lu; her given name is Yirong.”
The Emperor’s expression remained impassive, saying nothing.
Gao Fuliang steeled himself and continued. “This slave was just figuring out how to summon her when the Palace Gate Office said the Lu woman had approval to enter the palace today with Cui Cheng to visit Empress Cui.”
The implication was clear: the Lu woman had entered the palace today, but with her husband.
“Is this how you handle things?” The Emperor’s tone was calm, but years of command lent it an aura of unspoken authority.
Gao Fuliang’s legs gave out completely, and he dropped to his knees with a thud. “This slave is guilty. Forgive my boldness, Your Majesty. The Lu woman is already a Cui family wife—why summon her? Besides, her status is special; she’s the young madam from the family of the Previous Emperor’s empress. If word gets out, the censors will tear into it, damaging Your Majesty’s reputation. Please think thrice.”
“Your Majesty, your rear palace stands empty, and the imperial clan has already petitioned to select noble ladies to fill it…”
The Emperor said, “Where is she?”
Gao Fuliang had ordered close surveillance on Cui Cheng and his wife since their entry. Palace servants reported their actions every quarter-hour. “Your Majesty, Cui Cheng and the Lu woman are still in Zhaoyang Palace, preparing to take their leave and exit the palace.”
The Emperor made no comment, his face expressionless as he picked up a violet-haired brush with a hawksbill handle and continued approving memorials.
The hall fell silent, the heavy dragon’s saliva incense burning in the lion-shaped golden censer beside him, sending up wisps of white smoke.
Since entering the capital, the Emperor had first summoned the ministers to handle a stack of memorials the Previous Emperor hadn’t approved. Then he’d placed his own man, Fan Ying, as Feilin Great General and immediately begun purging the Forbidden Army of rival influences.
The officials understood: this new Emperor, who had joined the army at fourteen, was nothing like his predecessor’s indolence. He was diligent. Though he avoided implicating families to assert power, his purges were swift and thunderous—he wasn’t one to fool.
The servants below dared not deceive him. Gao Fuliang knew he’d mishandled this task, even sabotaging it passively. His heart raced. But a sovereign seizing a minister’s wife? Unheard of. How could he assist?
If the Emperor dropped this absurd notion himself, that would be ideal.
Suddenly, the Emperor spoke. “Extinguish the incense.”
A young eunuch stepped forward and carefully snuffed it out.
Moments later, the Emperor tossed the brush aside, rose, and strode out. Gao Fuliang hurriedly urged the young eunuchs to follow nimbly.
The Emperor’s strides were long. Only after leaving the solemn Purple Chen Hall did he slow.
He took the path that led from Zhaoyang Palace out of the palace, walking at an unhurried pace. His strikingly handsome face remained calm. After a while, he halted under a lush green willow.
A young eunuch was about to clap to signal the approaching man and woman to kneel when Gao Fuliang stopped him with a glance. His hand hung awkwardly in midair.
The Emperor’s eyesight and hearing were exceptional. He heard the man named Cui Cheng say, “Rongrong, look—a pure white bird just flew by.”
He took his wife’s hand and pointed in the direction the bird had gone.
The Emperor sneered. “No manners.”
Gao Fuliang murmured assent, his heart sinking. A proper married couple holding hands in broad daylight might be improper, but hardly wrong. As for… as for His Majesty waiting here so patiently—what did he intend?
He couldn’t very well order the Lu woman to stay right in front of Cui Cheng, could he?
The Emperor narrowed his eyes, peering through the dangling willow branches. The pair had stopped holding hands but walked side by side with an effortless intimacy.
He watched for a bit. As they drew near enough to meet face-to-face, a sudden distaste welled up. “Back to Purple Chen Hall.”
The Emperor turned and left.
Yirong caught sight of a figure in dark dragon-embroidered robes not far ahead, trailed by many eunuchs. She whispered to Cui Cheng, “Chenglang, is that His Majesty up ahead?”
One didn’t pass the Emperor without paying respects—especially since Cui Cheng wanted to petition for his sister’s honorary title. He hurried forward. The last eunuch turned, raised a hand to bar the way, and said sternly, “Halt.”
Cui Cheng bowed slightly. “Eunuch, I’m Empress Cui’s brother. I’d like to pay respects to Your Majesty—please announce me.”
The eunuch smiled. “Ah, Young Lord Cui. This slave will relay your intent to His Majesty shortly. But His Majesty hasn’t time to see anyone now. Please, both of you, return.”
His gaze lingered a moment on Yirong as she caught up.
Surprised, Yirong knelt with Cui Cheng to the Emperor’s retreating back before leaving the palace.
–
After two visits, Empress Cui’s stance hadn’t changed: she was fine, and the Emperor wouldn’t retaliate. Duke Qiao’s Mansion finally relaxed and began pushing to grant her an honorary title soon.
Yirong’s days quickly returned to their usual calm.
During the day, she took turns with her sisters-in-law and younger sisters-in-law serving soup and medicine to Madam Chen. When she had a moment of leisure, she chatted and laughed with Cui Cheng and her sisters while making scented powders and floral waters together. It was a life of idle luxury, utterly ordinary for the great aristocratic families of the Great Yan Dynasty.
Seven days passed like this before word came from the palace: the Sixth Young Madam was summoned to enter the palace the next day to visit Empress Cui.
Yirong grabbed a handful of silver melon seeds for each of the palace maids and eunuchs who brought the message. She instructed Shui Zhi and Shuiyun to see them off properly.
Watching their retreating figures, she frowned slightly.
Empress Cui had told them last time to rest easy and not come to the palace for a while. As the empress dowager of the Previous Emperor, it was too conspicuous for her maternal family to enter the palace so frequently. They could simply attend the palace banquets later.
Why summon her after just seven days? Something must have gone wrong.
The news soon spread throughout Duke Qiao’s Mansion. Madam Chen sent an old maidservant to help Yirong select clothes and jewelry for the next day, and she urged her to act with caution.
Yirong agreed. Once everything was prepared, she realized a sheen of fine sweat had beaded on her forehead.
She walked to the window. Clusters of roses bloomed beneath the corridor, and a gentle late-spring breeze wafted through, filling the courtyard with fragrance. Yet her mood did not lighten. That evening, Cui Cheng returned and offered a few words of comfort, but Yirong remained uneasy.
Early the next morning, she rose to dress and apply her makeup. The woman in the mirror had misty temples and windswept hair, a lotus-blossom face, willow-leaf brows, a fine and straight nose, and cherry lips naturally red without rouge. Even after a sleepless night that left her somewhat haggard, it did nothing to mar her peerless, clear beauty.
Yirong took special care to apply a layer of powder beneath her eyes to conceal the dark circles. With Shuilian helping her to her feet, her heart suddenly began to race for no apparent reason.