In the past five years, the name Yun Jichu had heard most often was Teacher Chu. Ah Chu? Not so much.
But Yun Jichu didn’t dwell on it. She squeezed her eyes shut and let herself topple straight over.
It was the best plan she could come up with on short notice.
Her hand wasn’t broken yet—she had no intention of dying.
Last time they had clashed, she had fainted for real and saved her own skin. This time… it should work too, right?
Would it?
She felt herself swept into a pair of arms, then lifted into the air. Wind whistled past her ears. Before she could even process it, she was laid down on the bed.
Yun Jichu’s conclusion: this man had boundless strength. He had grabbed her as easily as if she were a rabbit.
“Summon the imperial physician!” Helian Jin’s voice lacked its usual somber depth, laced instead with urgency.
Xue Gui responded promptly from outside the door.
“The Consort was overcome with shock and grief, causing her qi to surge in reverse. Her mind was deprived of vital energy, leading to this faint,” the imperial physician explained.
Helian Jin sat by the bed, his gaze fixed on the woman’s face atop it. Traces of tears still lingered.
His expression darkened. “Cure her quickly.”
The imperial physician stroked his beard thoughtfully. “This condition cannot be treated with harsh, tiger-and-wolf medicines. It requires slow, careful nurturing.”
He turned to Lady Shuxiu. “May I ask, after the Consort’s previous fainting spell, did she take her medicines on time?”
Lady Shuxiu replied, “The Consort dislikes bitter medicines. Even when taken with honey preserves, she often retched them up. More than half the medicines prescribed last time went to waste.”
The imperial physician nodded. “That explains it—improper recovery combined with today’s shock has led to this.”
Yun Jichu didn’t dare laugh.
She didn’t even dare flutter her eyelashes. Helian Jin was sitting right by her bed. If he discovered she wasn’t actually unconscious but merely pretending…
Would he just kill her right there on the spot?
It would be so undignified.
Yun Jichu held utterly still.
She had long heard that palace physicians were masters at fobbing people off, but she hadn’t expected such a perfunctory performance. Reassured, she lay there peacefully while the physician covered for her.
In the last month before graduating university, the first thing she had done after getting pregnant in the game was grind quests for cash, buy top-tier medicines in bulk, refine them, and lavish them all on the fetus in her belly. All to ensure the child would be strong and healthy—precisely to fend off physicians who spouted whatever came to mind.
Lost in these thoughts, she heard the imperial physician finish prescribing the formula. Glancing at the Emperor’s face this time, he added a generous helping of premium qi-and-blood tonics and body-fortifying herbs.
He scanned the Emperor’s expression all around, then quietly withdrew from the Side Hall.
Helian Jin sat by the bed for a long while—so long that Yun Jichu was on the verge of drifting off—before she finally sensed him stir.
Through her thin eyelids, Yun Jichu felt a sudden darkness before her eyes, as if something loomed overhead. Then came the faint sound of breathing, steady and soft, brushing across her face.
Her hands clenched fiercely beneath the covers, her heart pounding like a war drum. She fought to control her own breath.
What was Helian Jin doing?
Observing her! The man was meticulous; he clearly hadn’t bought the physician’s explanation wholesale.
Once more, her life hung by a thread. Yun Jichu spiraled into wild imaginings.
How would Helian Jin kill her this time?
Smother her by covering her mouth? Strangle her by the throat?
No blood either way. Yun Jichu actually thought that might be tolerable.
As she pondered, a sudden warmth touched the corner of her lips. Something soft and warm pressed there for an instant before withdrawing, like the brush of a feather.
Yun Jichu’s mind went blank.
By the time she processed what had happened, Helian Jin had already stepped away from the bed and strode off elsewhere.
That madman Helian Jin had stolen a kiss from her!
The covers suddenly felt scorching hot. All her frantic thoughts evaporated.
Don’t blush, don’t blush…
If her face flushed now, would Helian Jin realize she’d been awake the whole time? Would he fly into a rage and strangle her?
The room fell silent. Yun Jichu cracked her eyes open just a sliver.
Helian Jin was bent over, picking something up from the floor by the bookshelf.
In the past few days, she had seen him either lording over everyone or lounging lazily. But now, he looked a bit serious… and a bit soft.
It reminded Yun Jichu of childhood trips to the beach with her parents, picking up shells.
She had seen the photos her mother had secretly snapped.
Shell after colorful shell, gleaming in the light, her utterly absorbed—just like Helian Jin now.
What was he picking up so intently?
He finished!
Yun Jichu snapped her eyes shut.
A moment later, the beaded curtain rattled, followed by the sound of the door closing. The inexplicable pressure in the Side Hall finally lifted.
Yun Jichu exhaled in relief and opened her eyes.
She had escaped death once more!
Helian Jin stepped out of the Side Hall and glanced at Lady Shuxiu, who stood with her head bowed to the side. “Remove the calming herbs from the prescription. Leave only the body-fortifying ones.”
Lady Shuxiu stared in astonishment. She glanced toward the interior of the Side Hall, then realized her impropriety and hastily agreed.
~~~
Cui Cheng hurled the food box in his hands to the ground, snarling, “Wei, all those years ago when you were a street urchin faking blindness to tell fortunes, who was it that saved you?”
Wei Shan’s face remained calm as he bent down and picked up the box from the floor.
“Lord Cui, I trust you’ve been well.”
“Pah!” Cui Cheng jabbed a finger at Wei Shan. “What exactly did you say to His Majesty?”
Wei Shan plucked a steamed bun from the box, shook off the bits of vegetable clinging to it, and began eating without a care.
Cui Cheng paced in frantic circles. “How many ways do I have to warn you before you listen? His Majesty isn’t someone you can fool! You’d best quit while you’re ahead!”
Wei Shan glanced at him and kept on eating.
“The events of those years were a tangled mess. You’ve harbored that grudge long enough—it’s time to let it go, Wei Shan! Young Master Wei! Wake up!”
The only response was the sound of chewing.
Cui Cheng trembled with rage, his normally steady voice cracking. “Heal up here, then get out of the palace and go back to being your wandering daoist! And never come back!”
Cui Cheng turned to leave, but Wei Shan suddenly spoke. “If you’d known what was in my heart back then, would you still have saved me?”
Cui Cheng didn’t turn around. He stamped his foot. “No!”
With that, he flung his sleeves and stormed off.
Out on the decrepit corridor beyond the rundown room, Cui Cheng clasped his hands together and devoutly bowed to the four cardinal directions.
He then grabbed a leafy branch and swept it over himself.
Only then did he straighten his sleeves and walk away.
Wei Shan sat on the frayed rush cushion, nibbling the bun bit by bit until it was gone. Then he drew a jade pendant from his bosom.
The pendant was crude, made from poor material with no fine craftsmanship to speak of. It was utterly unremarkable.
And yet, someone liked it.
Wei Shan gave a mocking smile and tucked the pendant away.
~~~
In Penglai Hall, the Little Princess lifted her freshly painted picture by two corners.
“Imperial Father, look.”
Helian Jin set aside the document he’d been reading and glanced up.
The paper depicted four people: two tall figures standing shoulder to shoulder, and two shorter ones, one running after the other.
A tiger-patterned kite flew crookedly in the sky above.
The childish strokes were uneven—some thick, some thin—and nowhere near as refined as the one Helian Jin had seen during the day.
“Tell Father about it,” Helian Jin said, taking the painting with gentle patience.
“This is Mother, this is Imperial Father, this is Ah Nian, and this is me.” Her tiny fingers, still smudged with ink, pointed to each in turn.
Helian Jin’s lips curved in a smile. His gaze drifted upward to the kite. “And this?”
“That’s the kite Imperial Father tied for me and Ah Nian.”
It was the tiger-patterned one Ah Chu liked. Helian Jin nodded, carefully putting the painting away and ruffling the Little Princess’s hair. “Did you go to Zichen Hall to see Mother today?”
The princess clapped her hands in delight and spun to grab a sachet from the table, clutching it tight.
“Lady Yu taught me to make a sachet. I made one for Mother to soothe her mind.”
Helian Jin eyed the lotus-pink sachet in her hands—its stitches crooked, the fabric all bunched up—and chuckled. “Your Mother will love it.”
Father and daughter stepped forward to leave, but Helian Jin halted and looked down at the princess. “Do you remember what Father told you?”
The princess nodded. “Mother is ill and doesn’t remember us three. Ah Huan mustn’t scare her anymore. Just call her Consort Yun.”
Helian Jin nodded.
“Imperial Father.” The princess suddenly tugged at his sleeve.
Helian Jin crouched down to meet her eyes. “What is it? If you don’t want to go, we can do it another day.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to…” The princess stood on tiptoe, cupped his forehead in her hands, and gently blew on his temple a few times. “Blowing on it for Imperial Father. Your head won’t hurt anymore.”
Helian Jin fell silent for a moment, then ruffled her hair again before rising and leading her out.
At dusk, Yun Jichu finally awoke from her nap.
Lady Shuxiu entered to light the lamps. Yun Jichu hastily pulled back from her stretch.
But Lady Shuxiu didn’t spare her a glance. She lit the lamps with her head bowed, then stood silently to the side.
Yun Jichu felt a little awkward.
“Would Consort like to dine?”
“Yes.” Yun Jichu dawdled. “Can I order dishes?”
Half an hour later, Yun Jichu sipped milk tea and nibbled on flaky pastries. The crusts were freshly made; when she pinched one, golden flakes crumbled away. One bite revealed soft, sweet red bean paste blended with date mud—deliciously mellow, not overly cloying. She sighed in genuine bliss.
Who needed calming soup? These cured all ills!
Full and content, she’d barely settled back when a soft, sticky voice drifted in from outside the hall. “A… Consort Yun, I’ve come to see you.”
Yun Jichu hurried out to greet her. Looking up, she saw Helian Jin had come too. His expression was inscrutable as he trailed behind the Little Princess. When his eyes met Yun Jichu’s, the corners of his mouth twitched in what seemed an unnatural smile.
Yun Jichu wondered if she’d imagined it.
The princess suddenly hugged Yun Jichu’s leg, stopping her just as she was about to curtsy.
Yun Jichu hurriedly glanced at Helian Jin’s expression. Seeing no reproach for her impropriety, she finally relaxed and said properly, “Greetings, Your Majesty. Greetings, Princess.”
The princess froze in place, clutching her sachet even tighter until it crumpled further. She stammered, “Consort Yun… please don’t do that anymore.”
If she didn’t, wouldn’t she just be waiting for the day Helian Jin lost his temper and came at her with a sword? Yun Jichu sneaked another peek at him. His face was cold and impassive, giving nothing away.
Suddenly, Helian Jin said, “Ah Huan, go play.”
The princess hesitated. “Imperial Father…”
Helian Jin said nothing more. He glanced at Yun Jichu again—her head was bowed low—and then left.
With this towering figure gone, Yun Jichu felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She let out a sigh of relief, crouched down, and asked, “Has Your Highness come to have me paint your portrait?”
“Consort Yun remembers!” the princess exclaimed in surprise. She had thought it was just an excuse from days ago.
Smiling, Yun Jichu led her into the Side Hall. The palace maids who had been waiting inside followed Lady Shuxiu out.
Yun Jichu lifted the princess onto the Inlaid Cloud Chair and stood beside her, selecting a brush.
The princess looked up. “Consort Yun, sit with me.”
The Inlaid Cloud Chair was spacious enough for Yun Jichu to sit beside the Little Princess without issue, but…
Wouldn’t that break protocol?
Yet with no one around, and the adorable Little Princess pleading so sweetly, Yun Jichu resisted for all of three seconds before sitting down.
Yun Jichu had never been around children. She was the only child in her family, and after her misfortune, she had lived alone—always isolated, wherever she went.
Children were innocently pure, just as the books said: Treat them with sincerity, and they would draw close.
With the Little Princess snuggled against her side, Yun Jichu used her sleeve to hide the bruises on her wrist. She selected a jade brush and asked, “Your Highness, how about this one?”
“Consort Yun, call me Ah Huan.”
“Well…”
The princess blinked up at her expectantly.
“Alright, Ah Huan.”
The Little Princess beamed with joy. She threw her arms around Yun Jichu’s neck and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. Then she held out her sachet. “This is the first embroidery Ah Huan has ever made. It’s for you, Consort Yun.”
Yun Jichu was stunned by the kiss. First Helian Jin had inexplicably stolen one on her earlier that day, and now the princess was hugging and kissing her too.
People in ancient times… sure were affectionate.
She took the sachet. It was adorably ugly, but Yun Jichu loved it. It was almost identical to the one she had made herself.
The crooked stitches, the abstract shape—how endearing!
Helian Jin doubled back and spotted the Crown Prince standing by the window of the Side Hall from afar.
As he approached the window, the Crown Prince bowed deeply.
“Why didn’t you go in?” Helian Jin asked.
The Crown Prince replied, “Why didn’t Imperial Father accompany Ah Huan?”
Father and son fell silent for a moment.
Helian Jin said, “She truly is your Mother.”
The words she had spoken today were the same ones she had murmured to him six years ago, after they had tangled together in passion. Back then, he had kissed her fingertips, his tongue teasing the thin callus there, making her blush with shyness.
These intimate secrets—no third person in the world could know them.
The Crown Prince said, “Perhaps she doesn’t want to be your son’s Mother.”
Helian Jin lowered his gaze to the child before him. Only five years old, yet his thoughts were so intricate.
“She has no other choice.” Helian Jin’s voice grew colder.
“Imperial Father!” The Crown Prince kept his voice low, but urgency crept in.
Helian Jin glanced deeply into the room. Yun Jichu was holding Ah Huan in her lap as they painted together—a scene he had dreamed of countless times over the past five years.
“Ah Nian.”
The stern, low tone was both a reminder and a warning.
The Crown Prince fell silent. “Your son overstepped.”