Empress Dowager Cui, now honored as Empress Dowager Zhaoyi, had already shed her tears once. She sat beside an incense brazier that wafted a pleasant fragrance, her eyes still red and swollen.
The palace maid Lv Zhu tried to console her. “Your Majesty has bestowed upon you the title of Empress Dowager. In terms of rites and customs, you now stand equal to the former Empress Dowager. Before, she vented her anger on you, punishing you with seclusion and making you kneel for hours…”
As she spoke, Lv Zhu wiped away her own tears. “But now it’s all better. His Majesty has not only stood up for you, forbidding the former Empress Dowager from summoning you again, but he’s also granted you all the same protocols and honors as her.”
She deliberately avoided mentioning the condition the Emperor had attached to his support, but Empress Dowager Cui could not ignore it.
Empress Dowager Cui rubbed her knees. Ever since the Previous Emperor’s sudden death, the former Empress Dowager had blamed her for failing to manage the palace properly, shoving all the fault onto her shoulders. She often summoned her for scoldings and forced her to kneel.
Bound by rites and filial piety, she had no choice but to obey.
Empress Dowager Cui suddenly let out a cold laugh. “The Emperor didn’t even bother to come in person. He just sent a eunuch to demand that I sell my younger brother’s wife to him…”
She covered her face and burst into sobs.
What utter humiliation. She could not help but yearn for her late husband. If he had not died, how could she have fallen to such depths?
After crying for a while, Lv Zhu mustered her courage to comfort her. “Since you’ve already agreed, you can only cooperate now.”
In the silent night, her sobs echoed clearly through the vast inner hall, sending chills down the spine.
At long last, Empress Dowager Cui dried her tears and gave a self-mocking smile. “You’re right. Since I’ve already promised to help him claim Yirong, what point is there in crying?”
She had no choice but to play along.
The Emperor’s willingness to grant her this honor in exchange was already a great face-saving gesture for the Cui Family. If he had simply seized her by force, what could she say? What could anyone say?
Lv Zhu glanced cautiously at her expression. “You yourself have complained before about the Sixth Young Madam’s background. Though her mother hails from the Pingyang Marquis Mansion, her father’s rank was too low, and he died young. She’s hardly a match for the Sixth Young Master.”
Empress Dowager Cui shook her head. “But young Ar Cheng is utterly devoted to her. The two of them are deeply in love as a couple. This matter will be tricky… Never mind. Sound out Mother about it. Let her pretend she knows nothing, but she needs to prepare herself mentally and start looking for a suitable noble daughter for Ar Cheng to marry.”
“Mother isn’t well, so have someone tell her personal maid first. This needs to be broken to her gently, in person. No letters—send someone out right away.”
With the candle flames flickering, the now-calmed Empress Dowager Cui issued her instructions.
“I hope this can all end with some dignity.”
–
Yirong and the Eldest Young Madam did not get along, so she had prepared two carriages and entered the palace separately, relishing the freedom.
She had thought it through: no matter what the Eldest Young Madam was like, with her there, the two of them would always be stuck together after entering the palace. The Emperor surely wouldn’t speak to her in front of her sister-in-law.
Yirong’s mood was light and cheerful the whole way.
Empress Dowager Cui had always treated her kindly, and now that she enjoyed the status of an Empress Dowager, Yirong was genuinely happy for her. The carriage wheels rumbled along, and soon they reached the palace gates. Yirong alighted and hurried to catch up with the Eldest Young Madam. Together, they were welcomed inside by Empress Dowager Cui’s palace maids.
Upon entering Zhaoyang Palace, they found the air filled with a rich, intoxicating fragrance. A windowsill overflowed with vibrant potted flowers, their colors blazing like sunset clouds, sweeping away the gloom of recent days.
Empress Dowager Cui greeted them with a warm smile. The two young madams dared not be presumptuous and respectfully offered their congratulations with deep curtsies.
“We’re all family—what’s with the formality? It’s been so long since Big Sister came…” Empress Dowager Cui entertained them enthusiastically as palace maids filed in with tea and plates of fresh-cut fruit.
After sitting for a while, she led them to view the lotus flowers blooming early in the water jars in the rear hall’s courtyard.
Yirong gazed at the elegant, pure pink-and-white lotuses, then at the smiling Empress Dowager Cui. It was wonderful—she was truly happy for her from the bottom of her heart.
She had suspected before that Empress Dowager Cui had some troubles, perhaps related to her title. Now that it was resolved, she had emerged from her worries.
“Why are you staring at me like that, Yirong?” Empress Dowager Cui lightly touched her own cheek and asked with a smile.
She laughed. “Sister is radiant today, so of course I have to look a little longer.”
At those words, Empress Dowager Cui’s smile faltered for an instant. The unnatural moment passed quickly, and she resumed chatting and laughing.
After lunch, the two young madams from the Cui Family took their leave. As usual, palace maids escorted them. After leaving Zhaoyang Palace and walking some distance, two elegantly dressed palace women suddenly stopped Yirong. “Sixth Young Madam, our mistress invites you over for a chat.”
Yirong’s face paled. Beside her, the Eldest Young Madam remarked in a lukewarm tone, “It’s Consort Gu inviting you, isn’t it? Go on, Sixth Sister-in-Law. I won’t wait—I’ll head out first.”
The two palace women smiled and nodded, gesturing politely to see off the Eldest Young Madam.
Consort Gu was a consort of the Previous Emperor. At a small banquet last year, she had mentioned being from the same hometown as Yirong. Out of pity for her homesickness, Empress Dowager Cui had allowed Yirong to pay respects in the palace and occasionally visit to keep her company.
Yirong had nearly forgotten about it. The heart that had been suspended in uneasy suspense finally settled, and she followed the two palace women. Familiar with the inner palace, she soon realized they were not heading toward Consort Gu’s residence. Frowning, she asked, “Has Consort Gu moved to a new palace?”
“Not yet,” the green-robed palace woman replied respectfully. “Our mistress invites you to Cool Shade Hall to admire the flowers.”
Yirong smiled and said it was fine. After walking farther, they arrived at Cool Shade Hall, a dainty little palace often used for small banquets hosted by palace ladies and noblewomen.
The palace maid led her to a small pavilion in the rear hall and gestured for her to enter.
“Please wait a moment. Our mistress will be here shortly.”
The palace woman withdrew and closed the door. Yirong sat by the low table. The pavilion was elegantly furnished, with chilled plum juice and warm spring-water pastries on the table for her to enjoy hot or cold as she pleased. There were also stacks of exquisite dim sum and fresh fruits.
What truly lifted her spirits was the wide-open door directly in front of her. The courtyard beyond burst with lush greenery: clinging crabapple blossoms, crape myrtle flowers, and pomegranate blooms in endless profusion, like drifting smoke and rosy clouds, as if she had stepped into a fairyland.
Yirong sighed in amazement and delight. She sipped the thick plum juice. Seeing that Consort Gu had not yet arrived, she picked up the jade cup and walked to the door.
Her lips curved upward as she leaned casually against the doorframe. She had paid respects in the palace countless times, yet she had never known Cool Shade Hall hid such a stunning scenic nook.
It was midday, with soft sunlight hazy in the warm sky. The sun hung high, neither too hot nor too cold, and the late-spring air flowed with heady floral scents. The crape myrtle flowers facing the door were especially splendid, their branches crowded with blooms.
A figure emerged through the continuous floral trees, walking unhurriedly toward her. Sunlight draped his form in a faint golden glow.
It was a tall, young man clad in a dark robe embroidered with dragons, his brows sharp and heroic, eyes like stars, his bearing dignified and imposing.
Yirong watched with wide eyes. In a daze, the world seemed to shift—heavens darkened, storm clouds gathered with howling winds, all flowers fading into the distance. She blinked in a stupor as the Emperor drew within a few steps of her.
She flung the jade cup from her hand, hiked up her skirts, and bolted toward the closed door.
She had no idea how the door had shut. Yirong shoved at it with all her might, but it did not budge an inch.
“Someone! Help!” Yirong pounded on the door, shouting in panic.
The one who had come was the Emperor himself.
On second thought, those two palace women had never explicitly said it was Consort Gu inviting her—they had merely nodded along when she and her sister-in-law asked. She had visited Consort Gu a few times before, so how could she have imagined the Emperor even knew about that!
“Help! Let me out!” Yirong beat desperately on the door.
The Emperor had already come up behind her. With a long arm, he scooped up the struggling Yirong around the waist, carried her a few steps to the cushion before the low table, and set her down—though he kept her half in his embrace.
He examined her closely.
She had come to offer congratulations, dressed in a light sea-tang red gauze ruqun. Now in his arms under the sunlight, she seemed to sit amid a blaze of rosy clouds. The thin garments of the season revealed a glimpse of snowy skin at her chest.
Her panicked eyes held unshed tears, on the verge of weeping.
The Emperor asked, “Has Young Madam Cui recovered from her illness?”
His hand rested across her slender waist, a perfect fit in his grasp.
Heat from this man—so different from her husband’s—seeped through the gauze, threading into her body.
Yirong finally snapped out of her terror. She scrambled up and retreated several steps before dropping to her knees.
“Your Majesty is a wise ruler, aligned with heaven above and bearing the mandate below. This subject-wife truly dares not linger before Your Majesty. This subject-wife begs to take her leave.”
She was utterly terrified, her words tumbling out far from her usual eloquence.
Yirong gasped for breath. Without waiting for permission, she rose to flee, but the Emperor leaned forward, deftly pulling her back into his arms.
She tumbled onto the Emperor’s lap, tears welling in her eyes, trembling all over. His fingers, thick with calluses, brushed her cheek, wiping away the tears. In a deep voice, he asked, “Did you make yourself ill just to avoid me?”
That imperial physician had indeed been sent by the Emperor.
Yirong closed her eyes in despair and said shakily, “Since Your Majesty knows, this subject-wife begs Your Majesty for mercy and to let this subject-wife return home.”
In a small voice, she reminded him, “Your Majesty is a wise ruler.”
The Emperor smiled faintly. “Does that mean if I speak with you, Madam, I’m no longer wise?”
She was instantly speechless.
Yirong was always quick-witted, but facing this unfathomable Emperor, she was at a loss. The man before her was no ordinary lecher—he was the one who had guarded the borders for ten years, the new master of Great Yan.
Scolding, hitting, calling for help—none of it would work.
She could only reason with him, beg him to let her go.
“Your Majesty commands the wealth of the four seas. Why insist on claiming one ordinary woman?” Yirong sobbed, tears glistening in her eyes. “This humble wife shares marriage vows with her husband. I cannot betray him. If I must, then death is the only way to prove my innocence. I beg Your Majesty to show mercy and allow this humble wife to return home…”
The Emperor gazed into her pleading eyes. “Zhen taking you into the palace—that is the true imperial grace.”
His tone was utterly calm, not even boldly assertive, but carrying the natural conviction that bringing her into the palace was an honor bestowed upon her.
Yirong was trapped in the Emperor’s iron-hard arms, her heart pounding in terror. She could only shake her head desperately. It took her a long moment to regain a shred of composure. “Your Majesty, this is wrong… Your Majesty is surrounded by countless beauties. Why make things difficult for a mere married woman like me?”
She tried to appeal to reason. “This humble wife is already wed. My husband and I went through the proper betrothal rites of three matchmakers and six betrothal gifts. Even if we do not enjoy perfect harmony, our affection is mutual. How could I betray him and enter the palace as a second wife? Moreover… moreover, this humble wife is Your Majesty’s royal sister-in-law’s younger sister. If you do this, what will the world say? I beg Your Majesty to think thrice. I dare not tarnish Your Majesty’s sacred reputation. Please release this humble wife and let me go home!”
The Emperor merely replied, “No matter.”
His pitch-black eyes gleamed like lightning flashing beneath jagged rocks. Amid the opulent splendor of the small palace hall, his astonishing aura carried an air of casual nonchalance.
Under the weight of the Emperor’s gaze, Yirong turned her face away in utter shame and fury, squeezing her eyes shut.
The Emperor turned her face back toward him. Her long lashes trembled faintly, and her slightly pursed lips—untouched by any rouge—were naturally rosy.