Since Madam Lu had been demoted to the quarters for lowly palace maids, this was the first time the Emperor had proactively asked about her.
Gao Fuliang naturally knew whom the Emperor meant. He was about to report when he hesitated.
“What’s wrong? Is she dead?”
The bright candlelight flickered, illuminating the Emperor’s handsome face. His long lashes cast a shadow, making his expression hard to read.
Hearing the Emperor’s cold words, Gao Fuliang grew even more unsure of how to respond.
Seeing that he still dared not speak, the Emperor scoffed. “Tell me the truth.”
“Yes, Your Majesty…” Gao Fuliang reported everything Lu Yirong had done over the past few days, not daring to dwell on how the Emperor might feel knowing Madam Lu was perfectly content there.
Once he finished, the Emperor let out a faint “Mm” and said nothing more.
After a long while, the Emperor set down his brush. Gao Fuliang ventured, “Your Majesty, for tomorrow’s return to the capital—do you have any arrangements for Madam Lu, or the Lu Clan?”
“No need to change them.”
With that, the Emperor set down his brush and walked to the window.
Dense green trees stood before the window, exquisite palace lanterns hanging from the stone pillars and swaying gently in the night breeze.
The vast Central Harmony Hall, the vast temporary palace—everything was utterly silent, without a single sound of human activity.
She actually had the interest to sew clothes for others and wipe down the chairs and bedframes until they gleamed.
He had not truly demoted her to the role of a servant, yet she had adapted so readily.
The words Gao Fuliang had not dared to voice outright were easily discerned by Zheng Yan.
She was enjoying herself there.
Likely even more than she had in the Central Harmony Hall.
The Emperor clenched his fist. In that instant, a snow-white bird fluttered up from the tree with a crisp, ringing chirp.
The scene of their second encounter immediately flashed through the Emperor’s mind.
Sunlight filtered through the haze, flowers blooming in endless clusters. She had been walking alongside Cui Cheng when the Cui family youth suddenly seized her hand to point out the departing white bird—and he had not let go right away.
The Emperor had found the sight utterly distasteful.
That had been his one moment of hesitation.
He was not well-acquainted with Cui Cheng. Before leaving the capital, they had no real dealings, and the most the Emperor knew of him was that he was his Imperial Brother’s brother-in-law.
Yet that single gesture had filled him with dislike for Cui Cheng.
However, Cui Cheng was Lu Yirong’s husband—their union had been properly arranged through the traditional rites.
They were of similar ages. As for appearances, Cui Cheng was decent enough to match her, at least in the eyes of the world—a fine match by all accounts.
Before this, he had never imagined taking an interest in another man’s wife.
In the past, he had given little thought to marriage. When his advisors occasionally brought up the matter of taking a princess consort, it was quickly overshadowed by other affairs of state. Even during the Ministry of Rites’ preparations for his ascension ceremony upon returning to the capital, esteemed senior ministers had reminded him to establish an empress and select concubines.
By then, he had already met numerous women from the imperial clan—countless beauties, including his uncle’s twin daughters and his aunt’s youngest daughter, among others.
Under normal circumstances, he ought to have chosen the one who pleased him most from among those noble cousins and ladies.
But there was no need for comparisons.
None of them suited him.
Yet she was already a married woman, and she and her husband… seemed to share a good relationship.
That night, the young Emperor pondered long and hard. Before drifting off to sleep, he steeled his resolve.
At his age, she was the first who had not even met his gaze squarely—yet she stirred in him a desire to draw close, to see more of her smiles and expressions.
He had no need to use marriage for alliances or to suppress rivals. A married woman could simply be divorced.
Once he changed his mind, the hesitation that had plagued him from afternoon until night vanished. He promptly sent someone to inform Lady Cui.
The Emperor stood at the window for a long time before withdrawing his gaze.
“Madam Lu lit a lamp on her first day there and did some needlework.”
“Madam Lu went to tend to a palace maid suffering from painful menstrual cramps.”
Gao Fuliang’s words echoed in his ears once more.
The moonlight was like frost, pale and deathly.
She would cry at the slightest trouble, yet she smiled just as easily. She carried herself with poise and grace toward others, yet retained the innocent purity of a young girl. She had overestimated herself, thinking she could easily slip away from the temporary palace, but she had successfully deceived him several times… and even in casual conversation, she occasionally struck at the heart of the matter with a single remark.
According to Prince Ning, she had been exceedingly gentle toward Cui Cheng’s little sister.
She had been the same with those palace maids.
Very well. Since she liked it there so much, she could stay forever—no. Why should she be allowed to be happy?
Let her remain in the temporary palace to keep Lady Cui company.
The Emperor closed his eyes, commanding himself not to think of this shameless woman any longer.
He turned from the window and looked toward Gao Fuliang, who stood waiting at attention.
“Does Your Majesty have any orders?”
“Go—” The Emperor paused for a moment. “Go summon Fan Ying into the palace to play chess with Zhen.”
It was already past the first watch of the night. Though Gao Fuliang was puzzled as to why the Emperor would summon General Fan into the palace at this hour for a game of chess, he still immediately dispatched someone to fetch him.
–
After the procession set out on the return journey to the capital, Yirong’s accommodations and meals grew increasingly meager.
She told herself she had no right to complain. After all, many palace servants were marching on foot alongside the entourage, while she at least had a carriage to ride in each day.
Last night, she had slept outdoors in her clothes. Today, at least she could sleep inside the carriage.
Perhaps this was a special consideration from Eunuch Gao.
That night, the imperial procession halted in a small city where Emperor Xuan had once built a Buddhist temple for the Emperor’s mother, Empress Dowager Pei, to pray for blessings. The Emperor lodged in a side chamber of the temple, while the accompanying officials pitched tents nearby.
Night had fallen, and the camp was dotted with points of firelight, accompanied by the occasional crackle of burning wood.
Yirong shared the carriage with an unfamiliar palace maid.
This was a far cry from the spacious, comfortable carriage on the journey out, which had been large enough for several people to sit and play cards, complete with silk cushions, a Golden Duck Incense Burner, an ice chest, and more. Now the compartment was cramped, carrying the faint stench of dry hay and horse dung.
But there was nothing to complain about.
She leaned against the carriage wall. What should she do once they returned to the capital?
Moonlight filtered through the narrow cracks, casting thin threads of light across her face.
The night air had grown chilly. Yirong hugged herself, and suddenly, a figure she had not thought of in a long time intruded into her mind.
She shook her head.
“Water for you.”
A slightly trembling voice interrupted Yirong’s thoughts. She smiled as she took the waterskin. “Thank you.”
Rui’er had helped her into the carriage earlier.
Not long before, the palace maid sharing the carriage with her, Rui’er, had said she was going to fetch some drinking water and had taken Yirong’s waterskin along as well.
Yirong was not thirsty. She unscrewed the cap and took a small sip, then frowned.
Why was the water so bitter?
Was she simply too delicate? Even lowly palace servants should not have to drink water with such an odd taste, should they?
Suddenly, a burning pain scorched her chest and gut, her whole body wracked with agony. In her shock, Yirong caught Rui’er averting her eyes—and in a flash, she understood.
She screwed the waterskin shut, twisting it tight.
Then she collapsed forward, her strength deserting her. Her eyes squeezed shut, she looked for all the world as if she had fallen asleep—or died.
Yirong pricked up her ears. Soon, she heard Rui’er’s rapid breathing right by her side. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her belly, she sat up abruptly. Under Rui’er’s terrified gaze, she seized Rui’er’s head and slammed it against the carriage wall.
Blood sprayed in a mist.
Yirong wiped her face, her heart pounding wildly.
She bent down to retrieve the fallen waterskin from the floor, bit her lip, and slid out of the carriage.
She had definitely been poisoned.
It felt as if a withered, terrifying hand were clawing at her organs, her breathing growing labored.
She had to keep moving forward, find an Imperial Physician.
She dragged her two leaden legs, clutching the waterskin with all the strength in her upper body.
She needed to let someone know she had been poisoned after drinking from this waterskin…
But who?
The sudden realization halted Yirong in her tracks.
Carriages and tents were scattered across the area, with Imperial Guards patrolling the perimeter, torches raised high.
Who could she tell?
Who…
A sharp pain stabbed through Yirong’s chest, and she collapsed to her knees, too weak to stand. She panted heavily for a moment before struggling back to her feet.
Earlier, she had overheard that their carriage was parked near some duke’s tent, but she had not paid attention and did not catch the details.
Even if it was the Cui Clan of Duke Qiao, she had to try.
But what if it was the Emperor who wanted her dead?
Yirong pressed her lips together. Her vision was blurring, but sheer force of will kept her stumbling forward.
“Madam Lu!”
Pei Jingqi could not sleep. She had been taking a stroll near her tent with two maids when she suddenly spotted Madam Lu in coarse cloth garments, her face speckled with blood. For a moment, Pei Jingqi thought her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Yirong’s eyes widened, her heart sinking.
Eldest Miss Pei was no fool. Knowing that her own cousin had received a reprimand from the palace, she could surely guess at Yirong’s relationship with the Emperor. This beauty wearing a look of concern might well be the poisoner.
It was not prejudice against Miss Pei—Yirong simply trusted no one from the Cui family after their betrayal, save for Shuilian and her own mother.
But now, with her life ebbing away and no strength left to walk farther, Yirong had no choice but to take the gamble.
“I was poisoned right after drinking from this waterskin.”
With those words, she felt as if people were calling her name from all around, but she could no longer make out what they were saying. Her vision went black, and she fainted.
Pei Jingqi was greatly alarmed. She hurriedly had a sturdy maidservant hoist Yirong onto her back, while she herself picked up the fallen waterskin from the ground.
Out of consideration for Madam Lu’s reputation and the Emperor’s dignity, she shared none of her suspicions with anyone… but her family had not brought their household physician on this trip…
Jingqi touched Yirong’s pale face.
“Liu Mama, secure her on your back properly. We’re going to see Your Majesty.”
Pei Jingqi knew the way to the temple. It wasn’t far. She urged the servant woman to hurry. Seeing that Yirong was still breathing steadied her heart somewhat.
But how could Madam Lu be out here all alone with no one to serve her? How could she have been poisoned?
Had someone in the imperial procession actually tried to poison her?
The waterskin in Pei Jingqi’s hand grew heavier and heavier. She slipped past her own curtain and hurried forward. Not far off, Imperial Guards patrolled with torches held high. She blinked and suddenly spotted a familiar face.
This youth with his deep, brooding features—she had seen him before, when her cousin the Emperor had visited her family’s home.
In the firelight, his amber eyes gleamed like frozen honey.
He strode quickly up to her.
“What is it?”
“Please hurry and report to Your Majesty! Madam Lu has been poisoned and fainted!”
Cheng Ye’s gaze fell on Yirong strapped to the servant woman’s back. His face changed drastically. He rushed forward two steps, took the unconscious woman from her, hoisted Yirong onto his own back, and sped away like the wind.
“Follow and bear witness!”
–
Incense smoke curled through the air.
Zheng Yan stood alone in the incense hall, where dozens of everlasting lamps flickered.
The silk banners bore his mother’s posthumous name.
When he was eight, his mother had fallen gravely ill and passed away not long after.
Sixteen years had gone by, yet he still remembered her gentle smile clearly, the snacks she made for him every day after school, and her final words from her sickbed—urging him to be loyal to the sovereign, devoted to his country, and to become a pillar of Great Yan one day.
He had become the master of Great Yan, but all he could do for her now was grant her the posthumous title of Empress Dowager. There was no way to let her see what he had become.
Zheng Yan knelt on the prayer mat, eyes closed in quiet contemplation.
In the past, he had always believed that his Imperial Father deeply loved his mother. The man had built several temples for her and prayed for her blessings. As for Zheng Yan himself, his father had indulged and doted on him endlessly.
But now that he sat in that same seat, he shook his head. Someone who truly loved another would never bear to let her live as second to anyone.
The night had deepened, and all was silent.
The candle flames swayed faintly, casting flickering shadows across the Emperor’s serene face.
He couldn’t quite explain it himself, but these past few days he had been in low spirits. Even on the journey back to the capital, he hadn’t dismounted to ride his horse. After staying here for an hour, his heart had gradually calmed.
He prepared to leave.
At that moment, Gao Fuliang’s sharp, urgent voice rang out from outside the hall.
“Your Majesty, Madam Lu is in trouble!”
The doors flew open.
Cheng Ye knelt at the threshold. Tears streamed down his youthful, handsome face. His eyes were red as he kowtowed repeatedly. “This subject deserves death!”
The eunuch hurried to add, “Your Majesty, Madam Lu has been poisoned!”
“Lead the way.”
Zheng Yan’s expression was remarkably calm. He followed the guiding Cheng Ye at first, then gradually overtook him and broke into a near-run.
She lay in his sleeping quarters.
Zheng Yan shoved the doors open with force, startling the Imperial Physician, the maids, and Pei Jingqi inside. They all turned to look.
“Your Majesty, this Noble Lady has been afflicted with a deadly poison…”
The Imperial Physician knelt and reported at length, his words rambling on.
Zheng Yan’s face was rigid. Amid the physician’s chatter, he slowly approached the sickbed. His final step hesitated for several moments before he finally bent down.
Her eyes were tightly shut, her face deathly pale.
He reached out and touched her cheek.