Yirong’s mind buzzed dully, torn between grief and fury.
She froze in place for a moment, scarcely registering the words of the eunuch at her side. She knew only that he was addressing her. Squeezing out a polite smile, she curtsied slightly. “Thank you, eunuch.”
Gao Fuliang hurriedly returned the gesture. He wouldn’t dare accept a bow from a noble lady like her.
In his heart, he thought, You should smile more at Your Majesty. Even if you can’t manage it, force one. He nodded and instructed the palace maids waiting outside to escort Yirong back. Then he hurried off in pursuit of the Emperor.
Flanked by the cluster of palace maids, Yirong walked in silence for some distance. As they neared the Landscape Serenity Mirror, she came to a halt. The maid attending her asked deferentially, “Madam, do you have any instructions?”
With a smile, she waved the question away. Once back in her bedchamber, Shuilian moved to help her change into casual house clothes, but Yirong suddenly grasped the maid’s hand where it rested on her arm. “Tell me, how can we keep Xingxiang from learning that I went to see Empress Dowager Cui—never mind, forget about her. We’re going right now.”
In truth, she had not wanted to visit Empress Dowager Cui. For one thing, she didn’t dare face her. For another, she feared the Emperor’s wrath might fall on those Cui family members she held dear. But what was there left to hesitate over now?
Shuilian shivered at the chill of her mistress’s fingers. “Young Madam, it’s so late tonight. Why not go tomorrow? Your hand feels ice-cold. Let this servant fetch an imperial physician for you.”
She shook her head and stood, insisting on setting out at once. Though puzzled, Shuilian dutifully added two more hairpins to Yirong’s coiffure before they departed. The imperial retreat palace sprawled vast and empty, its residences scattered far apart. This stretch lay deserted, alive only with the chirp of night insects. Shuilian led the way, lantern held high. When they reached Empress Dowager Cui’s quarters, Yirong addressed the palace maid who emerged to greet them. “I must see the Empress Dowager. Go inform her immediately. I have to see her tonight.”
Faint, elegant palace incense wafted through the bedchamber, where bright candlelight flickered. Empress Dowager Cui’s hair and attire were impeccably arranged. Bored, she toyed idly with a few jade-and-pearl flower ornaments beneath the candelabrum when a sound pierced the profound stillness of the night.
She had already heard the maid’s report. Setting aside the ornament, she watched as a young woman dressed like a matron hurried inside.
The visitor possessed an ethereal beauty—neither crudely flashy nor drearily plain. After a quick curtsy, she straightened, her expression cool and wordless.
A jolt of alarm shot through Empress Dowager Cui’s heart. She beckoned Yirong to sit opposite her and personally poured a cup of hot tea. “Yirong, what brings you to me at this hour? Why won’t you speak?”
She furrowed her brow. Yirong had always been the picture of propriety. What could compel her to come in the dead of night?
Yirong stared at the reddish tea before her. In the past, even when Empress Dowager Cui had shown her kindness, she had never stooped to pour tea herself.
Was it a pang of conscience?
Those few odd incidents from before, combined with the sight of the pouch at the Emperor’s waist—what more was there to misunderstand? The pattern of fortune, prosperity, and longevity was commonplace, and while others might not distinguish her embroidery from that of an ordinary palace seamstress, she knew her own work. Even after nearly a year and a half, she recognized it.
It dated back to just before last New Year’s Eve, when Madam Chen had gathered the women of Duke Qiao’s Mansion to embroider gifts for the then-Empress Cui—a modest token of the household’s goodwill.
Yirong’s deft hands had produced colors more vibrant than the rest.
The Emperor had been at the Vast Sea at the time and could not have known of such a trivial matter. Empress Dowager Cui must have given it to him herself.
There was no other explanation.
A giant hand seemed to seize Yirong’s vitals, squeezing the breath from her lungs. She glared at Empress Dowager Cui’s dignified, beautiful face until bewilderment and panic flickered across it. Only then did she speak. “When did you find out?”
At her words, the ever-composed features of Empress Dowager Cui cracked like a shattered mask, deep astonishment flashing across them before she managed a bitter smile. “Since you’ve asked… Lv Zhu, bring the items.”
“When did you find out?” Yirong repeated.
“Late April, more or less,” Empress Dowager Cui murmured softly.
Yirong nodded. That was around the time the Emperor had lured her to Cool Shade Hall. So it had been that long.
She asked outright, “Where is my husband?”
“Rest assured, he’s well. He’ll reach the retreat palace soon,” Empress Dowager Cui replied deliberately, syllable by syllable, then sighed.
Yirong let out a breath of relief, though doubt lingered. “Truly? Where is he now?”
With a wry smile, Empress Dowager Cui said, “Camped roughly twenty li from the retreat palace, out on patrol. Now that you’ve raised the matter, there’s no need to keep him there any longer. I’ll have him recalled.”
Yirong shuddered, her voice laced with disbelief. “It was you. You kept him from returning?”
Empress Dowager Cui fell silent. Yirong pressed relentlessly for an answer. “His Majesty dispatched my husband on duty, and you feared he might arrive early and stumble into everything firsthand, so you held him back?”
After a long moment, Empress Dowager Cui nodded slowly, confirming it. The Emperor had likely never paid her brother much mind in the first place—dispatching him without a second thought. But she could not afford to be so indifferent.
With Lu Yirong now laying everything bare, there was no point in leaving Cui Cheng out there any longer. Better to face the pain swiftly than draw it out. He would learn the truth soon enough.
Yirong pressed on. “Did Mother know as well?”
Empress Dowager Cui gave a faint nod.
The firelight danced between them. A tangle of inexpressible emotions welled up in Yirong’s heart—anger? Sorrow? In the end, she let out a light chuckle.
She had carried such guilt for her secrecy, feeling she had wronged Madam Chen and Empress Dowager Cui, betrayed the entire Cui family. She simply hadn’t dared to speak. Little had she imagined they had known all along—even colluding with the Emperor! And they were Cui Cheng’s own birth mother and elder sister…
How laughable she had been.
The items Empress Dowager Cui had requested arrived. The palace maid set them down and withdrew discreetly. With a wave of her hand, every servant in the hall held their breath and filed out in silence, wary of disturbing the hall’s strangely charged atmosphere.
Yirong bit her lip fiercely, as if determined to draw blood, fighting back tears as she watched in silence. Empress Dowager Cui slid two sheets of paper across the table toward her. Yirong lowered her gaze. At the bottom were Cui Cheng’s signature, her own, and the seal of the Capital Prefecture Yamen.
Two identical, perfectly executed sets of divorce papers.
So in the eyes of the authorities, she and Cui Cheng were already divorced.
She raised her eyes. “Does he know?”
“No,” Empress Dowager Cui said hastily. “Only I and our parents know. Yirong, you can rest easy—no one else will—”
“Why?” Yirong interrupted her. “Why would you do this?” Suddenly, she remembered the emperor’s extravagant honors bestowed upon Empress Dowager Cui—honors that had brought joy to the entire Cui family. “Is it for the title of ‘Honorific Name’?”
“Yes… and no.” Empress Dowager Cui fell silent for a long while, turning her face away, unable to meet the startling brilliance in Yirong’s eyes. “Yirong, you have no idea. In the palace, that old crone of an Empress Dowager was grinding me into the dust. If I had refused, I…”
“Should I have dragged the entire Cui family into peril with me?” Empress Dowager Cui added in a hollow voice. “Who could defy the Emperor’s will? Who would dare?”
Yirong thought of the Empress Dowager, whom she had found utterly unassailable. After the Previous Emperor’s death, that woman had schemed to install Prince Ning on the throne. Now the Emperor had uprooted all her influence at court, confining her so strictly that she could not take a single step beyond her bedchamber doors—utterly severed from the outside world.
Empress Dowager Cui turned back, tears in her eyes. “Don’t hold this against me, all right?”
Yirong’s chest felt choked and heavy. She longed to leap up and scream at Empress Dowager Cui, to smash the exquisite tea set to pieces. A blaze of fury coursed through her, scorching hot.
Her lips parted. “So your scheme was to forge my signature and my husband’s, draw up these divorce papers… and then what?”
She and Cui Cheng were divorced, then. She was no longer his wife, nor he her husband…
Dizzy and lightheaded, Yirong closed her eyes briefly. It could not have been Empress Dowager Cui’s doing—with their signatures and the yamen’s official seal, Duke Qiao must have handled the papers.
Empress Dowager Cui had summoned her to the palace now and then, Madam Chen had been especially kind of late and insistent that she attend the retreat, and Duke Qiao had taken care of the rest… The three most powerful voices in the Cui family, all conspiring to shove her toward the Emperor.
How utterly absurd.
“It was His Majesty’s command that you and Sixth Brother divorce,” Empress Dowager Cui whispered. “I had no choice.”
Yirong picked up the papers and examined them closely. The date was the day after she had visited her mother and crossed paths with the Emperor.
With his overbearing, self-assured temperament, the Emperor had not even told her directly? In an instant, she realized that every encounter with him at the retreat had devolved into arguments, leaving no room to broach the subject.
She and Cui Cheng alone had been kept in the dark.
She stared at Cui Cheng’s name on the divorce papers, as if she could bore a hole through it. Even knowing it was not penned by his hand, she could hardly breathe.
It was truly the best outcome for everyone—except for the two of them.
Empress Dowager Cui hesitantly laid her hand atop Yirong’s. Yirong snatched hers away at once. With a bitter smile, Empress Dowager Cui withdrew. “Yirong, Father said he wishes to adopt you as his righteous daughter. Then you and Sixth Brother could address each other as siblings. You bear enmity with the Pingyang Marquis Mansion—let our Cui family be your maternal home instead. There’s no need to sever ties.”
“I have parents of my own,” Yirong said coldly. “I have no need to call a thief ‘father.'”
“You insolent girl!” Empress Dowager Cui rebuked without thinking, shock and anger flaring in her voice. “Yirong, even now I haven’t held you to account. How exactly did you come to meet His Majesty? Had you behaved properly in the inner palace, how could you have encountered him?”
She let out a cold sneer, rose to her feet, and walked away, unwilling to exchange another word with Empress Dowager Cui.
“Wait!” Empress Dowager Cui stood up and softened her tone as she called out to Yirong’s retreating back, pleading, “Don’t see Sixth Brother anymore. I’ll explain things to him myself. Don’t even think about going to him—don’t stir up any more trouble.”
Yirong recalled how, two years earlier, she had heard that her younger brother in the estate outside the palace had taken a fancy to the niece of Marquis Pingyang. Yet their parents hadn’t been entirely in favor. Sixth Brother had sent a note through the Palace Gate Office, begging her to put in a good word for him.
When he spoke of the Lu Clan girl, his eyes had sparkled, and he couldn’t stop smiling. That kind of heartfelt joy in his gaze—she had seen it in other men’s eyes before she entered the palace.
If Lu Yirong went to him in tears, Cui Cheng wouldn’t let her go so easily. It would surely lead to disaster!
“Will you promise me? He’ll die.”
Yirong turned around and looked at the pleading expression on Empress Dowager Cui’s face. In a flat voice, she said, “Very well.”
Empress Dowager Cui nodded. “Just blame it all on me. I’ve wronged you.”
Silence fell over the hall for a moment.
“You abandoned me amid the Cui Family’s life, death, honor, and shame. I don’t blame you for that—it’s only human nature.” Yirong paused, her voice thick with sobs as she continued, “But why couldn’t you have told me quietly, tactfully? If you’d let me know you were aware, I wouldn’t have suffered like this…”
“Yirong!”
She ignored the interruption and strode out. Shuilian wiped away her tears, and the two of them returned to the Landscape Serenity Mirror in silence. Xingxiang came out with a beaming smile to greet them, taking hold of Yirong’s other hand.
Yirong instructed, “I’m hungry. Serve the meal.”
Xingxiang smiled. “It’s getting late, Madam. Shall this servant bring you some easily digestible dishes?”
She nodded. Before long, the palace maids brought in a bowl of wontons, a bowl of bird’s nest porridge, and dozens of exquisite little side dishes.
Yirong praised Xingxiang and picked up a piece of braised chicken. Before it reached her mouth, large teardrops began to fall.
Her tears fell silently into the soup before her. She cried as she ate.
—
The very next morning, word spread through the Imperial Retreat Palace and the surrounding villas that the sixth son of Duke Qiao had divorced his wife. The young couple had always seemed so devoted—how could they part without a whisper?
If it was due to a lack of heirs, who divorced after less than two years of marriage? And even if they did, why was the Lu Clan girl still allowed to reside in the Imperial Retreat Palace? Rumors flew, and all sorts of speculations arose.
It wasn’t long before fresh gossip emerged.
Old Marquis Pingyang had a distinguished record of service but only one niece, left alone without anyone to look after her. That was why she had been granted a fine residence in the Imperial Retreat Palace.
This sparked thoughts in many minds: Old Marquis Pingyang had only one daughter, and it seemed she no longer associated with the marquis’s household. Though she wouldn’t want for food or clothing, she had lost that layer of protection. Her staying in the Imperial Retreat Palace clearly had nothing to do with the Cui Family…
By noon, an even more momentous piece of news broke. The old lady of the Guangling Marquis Mansion was celebrating her birthday with a full thirty days of festivities. The first day had been for close friends, the second for family relatives, the third for dukes and nobles—with many traveling from the Capital City to offer congratulations. On the fourth day, which was today, the Emperor had first bestowed birthday gifts on the old lady, then sternly reprimanded Marquis Guangling for exceeding regulations and squandering resources.
At present, Marquis Guangling was pleading his case within the Imperial Retreat Palace. Everyone grew alarmed, anxiously examining their own households for any extravagance or violations. No one had time to dwell on Duke Qiao’s family affairs anymore.
After hearing Xingxiang’s report on the matter, Yirong saw her still standing there with a smile and couldn’t help furrowing her brow.
Did the Emperor expect her to comment?
Yirong gave a faint “Mm” and turned a page in her book scroll.
No one from the Cui Family would come looking for her now. Those few sisters she was close to had likely been stopped by Empress Dowager Cui’s orders.
She felt no regret at all for quarreling with Empress Dowager Cui the night before until there was no way back. Perhaps the dowager was right—maintaining good relations with the Cui Family benefited both sides. But to Yirong, it felt utterly repulsive.
All she cared about now was what Cui Cheng thought of her.
A bitter smile crossed Yirong’s lips. While neither of them knew, she and Cui Cheng were no longer husband and wife. What did his thoughts matter anymore…
The Emperor had told her to think things over carefully, and with his handling of Marquis Guangling, he wouldn’t be thinking of her for a while.
That was for the best. She rolled over to continue reading, but Shuilian reminded her that reading like that would hurt her eyes. With a lazy stretch, she sat up.
But her peace lasted only a day. The next day brought rare fine weather—clear skies and gentle sunlight. In the afternoon, Xingxiang entered with a grin and reported, “Madam, Your Majesty summons you to the Primordial Pool.”