Late spring, in Duke Qiao’s mansion.
As the Fifth Young Madam’s excuse of feeling unwell and thus unable to enter the palace landed, Lu Yirong couldn’t help curving her lips in a smile.
Cui Cheng discreetly pinched her hand beneath his sleeve and chuckled. “Since all my elder sisters-in-law either get along poorly with Sister or are feeling under the weather, it seems only my wife enjoys Sister’s favor and is healthy enough to make the trip into the palace.”
“You—”
Cui Cheng gazed over with a smile, staring down the Eldest Young Madam until her face soured in frustration. She pushed at her teacup and fell silent.
He had just come of age, his features strikingly handsome. In his teasing banter, he revealed the casual playfulness unique to young men his age, yet it was in no way off-putting.
“Enough.” Madam Chen, the Duke Qiao’s Madam, spoke slowly. “If I weren’t in such poor health myself, how could I trouble any of you to go into the palace and gauge the winds?”
The Duke Qiao’s Madam had been bedridden for years now, not stepping beyond the inner gates for four or five years. At her words, all her daughters-in-law rose to apologize. Madam Chen coughed a few times, gesturing for them to sit, then turned to Yirong with a few words of comfort. “…You should be the one to make the trip.”
Yirong had anticipated this from early morning. She rose with a smile. “It’s my honor as a daughter-in-law to enter the palace and visit Sister.”
The matter they’d discussed half the morning finally had a resolution. The large family dispersed one by one. As the youngest son, Cui Cheng stayed to serve his mother a bowl of medicinal soup before leaving with Yirong.
The couple was proper and decorous outside, but once they passed through the moon gate into Guanxian Courtyard, Cui Cheng took Yirong’s hand. They exchanged a smile and proceeded to the main chamber, surrounded by their servants.
The room was scented with faint suhe incense, and by the window stood pots of vibrant peony plants, their fragrance refreshing and pure.
Cui Cheng pulled Yirong onto his lap and said, “Rongrong, rest easy. They may be scared out of their wits, but if there’s real danger, I absolutely won’t let you go.”
The reason all the young madams in Duke Qiao’s mansion had made endless excuses was simple enough.
Two months prior, the Emperor had died suddenly, leaving no heirs—only two younger brothers, one exiled to Vast Sea Commandery for nearly a decade, the other adopted out to the imperial clan. After deliberation among the nobles and ministers, the Empress Dowager issued a decree summoning Prince Jing, the renowned general and Grand Protector of Vast Sea, back to the Capital City to ascend the throne.
Everyone knew the new Emperor had a poor relationship with the late Emperor. There were even vague rumors that the late Emperor’s death had been suspicious.
Cui Cheng’s elder sister was the late Emperor’s Empress, now Empress Cui in name only. With the shift in power, everyone in Duke Qiao’s mansion, high and low, feared the new Emperor’s wrath upon the Cui family. They wanted to send someone into the palace to pay respects to Empress Cui and seek guidance on how to navigate the days ahead.
Cui Cheng continued, “His Highness Prince Jing has returned to the Capital City a couple of times in recent years. I’ve met him twice. He’s stern-faced but handles affairs by the book and respects the law. He won’t lash out at us without cause. Rongrong, go with peace of mind. Once you’re in the palace, just keep Sister company and chat.”
He shared a close bond with Empress Cui, which extended to her treating this sister-in-law rather warmly.
Yirong smiled faintly. “I understand. I’m worried about Sister too. Besides, though Prince Jing has entered the palace to prepare for the ascension ceremony, how could he possibly go to the late Emperor’s harem? I won’t run into him. There’s nothing to fear.”
Sunlight slanted through the half-open glazed window, illuminating her face, fair as snow amid blooming flowers.
Cui Cheng laughed. “Our Rongrong is the cleverest, as always.”
“You’re teasing me, Chenglang!” Yirong flushed at his childlike tone of praise and pretended to pinch his cheek, only for Cui Cheng to catch her hand.
They play-wrestled for a moment before Yirong blinked, lowering her long lashes. In a soft voice, she said, “Chenglang, you’re always so good to me.”
It wasn’t just this time—he always spoke up for her.
Cui Cheng paused at her words, then understood what she meant. By custom and propriety, Yirong was at a natural disadvantage before her mother-in-law and elder sisters-in-law. If he stood by coldly, she would only suffer.
Grinning, Cui Cheng said, “Then give Rongrong a kiss.”
They had been married nearly two years; shyness was a thing of the past. Yirong looped her arms around Cui Cheng’s neck, leaning in toward his lips. He dodged playfully backward, chuckling at her closed eyes.
She opened hers in indignation and shot to her feet. Cui Cheng chased after her. She poked his chest and huffed, “Your subordinates should see what a rogue you really are.”
Cui Cheng smiled and silenced her further complaints with a kiss. Amid their intimate embrace, desire stirred in him, but it was broad daylight during the national mourning period. After a tender moment, he released the beauty in his arms.
–
Women entering the palace had to submit a calling card in advance and receive permission before proceeding.
Two days later, Yirong received approval to enter the following day.
With the nation in mourning, she couldn’t wear bright reds or greens, yet she couldn’t appear shabby either. That afternoon, Madam Chen summoned her for detailed instructions on what to wear, along with reminders to comfort Empress Cui well.
Yirong agreed to everything. Back in her room, she carefully selected an outfit and finally chose a elegant pale azure gown and skirt. She sent it for Madam Chen’s approval and breathed a sigh of relief only when it passed muster.
The next morning, Yirong rose early to dress and boarded the carriage. It was still early, but street vendors were already hawking roast cakes and steamed buns. Her maid Shuilian lifted the curtain for a peek before letting it fall.
Yirong smiled. “If you’re hungry, go buy some snacks to tide you over.”
Shuilian replied, “This servant just had breakfast; I’m not hungry. I was just noticing how, even though two months have passed, there are far fewer people out and about than before.”
Seeing Yirong fall silent, Shuilian murmured, “To put it bluntly, that’s a good thing. Sixth Young Master is the late Emperor’s brother-in-law, so for the sake of appearances, the family will observe mourning for a year. During that year, the Eldest Young Madam and the others won’t be able to gossip that you haven’t conceived yet…”
Yirong shot her a glare. “You can’t just say things like that out loud.”
Shuilian had served her since childhood and knew she wasn’t truly angry. She giggled, then added after a moment, “Miss, we’ll spend this year nourishing your health. Once you have a child, what will there be to worry about? Who will dare mention that Sixth Young Master was originally betrothed to someone else? You made the right choice back then.”
Yirong followed Shuilian’s train of thought, recalling how Cui Cheng had smilingly painted her brows before she left. A smile unconsciously bloomed on her face.
When the beauty smiled, it was as if a thousand flowers burst into bloom at once.
Yirong quickly schooled her expression and warned Shuilian never again to mention the late Emperor’s passing on her lips, nor bring up those pre-wedding matters.
Truth be told, she was still afraid.
If this were truly a good thing, why had her sisters-in-law avoided it like the plague? But Cui Cheng truly cared for his sister, and she herself owed Empress Cui a debt of gratitude. So she went willingly.
She hoped she wouldn’t encounter that rumored cold and unyielding new Emperor, who had drunk from the waters of Vast Sea.
She let out a sudden laugh. What a fool she was—a vast Palace City, how could she possibly run into him?
Yirong closed her eyes, mulling over Shuilian’s words as the carriage rumbled on. After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they reached the palace gates.
Empress Cui’s maid Lv Zhu led two young palace maids in waiting at the gate, curtsying to her. By protocol, Shuilian couldn’t enter and had to wait outside.
Yirong knew the path to Zhaoyang Palace well. Before even entering the inner hall, she caught the acrid stench of medicinal soup mingled with salve—pungent and choking.
Forgetting to frown, all her earlier daydreams of brighter days vanished. She hurried inside.
The bedchamber was deathly silent, the bed curtains low, the palace maids standing rigidly. Compared to her previous visits, it felt desolate and empty.
Empress Cui, thinned to skin and bones, sat propped half-upright in bed. Spotting Yirong, she weakly beckoned her to sit at the bedside.
Yirong curtsied, then sat. No sooner had she done so than Empress Cui collapsed into her arms, great tears rolling down as she wailed openly. Yirong’s heart jolted in alarm—Empress Cui had always treated her kindly, but never with such raw intimacy.
For now, Yirong set aside her thoughts and softly comforted the trembling, sobbing woman in her embrace. She dabbed carefully at the tears streaking Empress Cui’s pale face with a handkerchief.
Gently, she patted Empress Cui’s shoulder, soothing her with exquisite care and tenderness.
It took a long while for Empress Cui’s cries to subside. An attending palace maid brought a basin of water and fresh towels to help her wash up. Lv Zhu served Yirong a cup of strong hot tea. “This is the new Little Xiaochun. Please try some, Sixth Young Madam.”
Yirong accepted with a smile, sipped, and set it aside. She took Empress Cui’s hand earnestly. “Sister, no matter how heartbroken you are, you must think of your health. Mother said recently that palace affairs were too busy and kept us away. If you grow any thinner, my sisters-in-law and I will have no choice but to come dine with you often.”
She stroked Empress Cui’s hand, sighing inwardly—even her rings hung loose now.
After a few words, a smile finally touched Empress Cui’s face. She patted Yirong’s slender white hand.
Lv Zhu watched from the side, sighing to herself. The Sixth Young Madam wasn’t just beautiful; she had a naturally gentle and approachable smile. Speaking with her felt like a spring breeze caressing the face, easing any worries.
After a brief hesitation, Yirong asked, “I caught a whiff of salve earlier. Is Sister injured somewhere?”
Empress Cui’s expression stiffened momentarily before she replied, “It’s nothing. Probably some palace maid using it.”
Only then did Yirong relax. She shared a heartfelt conversation with Empress Cui, accompanied her through lunch, and waited until she had napped and woken refreshed before taking her leave.
Emerging from Zhaoyang Palace, she found the gardens lush and the air rich with floral perfume.
Trouble weighed on Yirong’s mind, but the palace maid escorting her kept chattering. She halted and smiled. “No need to see me out, miss. I know my way around the palace. You’ve been working hard these days—go back, have some tea, and rest.”
The palace maid wavered, touched by her words. Considering that a Cui family young madam would never be so ill-mannered as to wander the palace, she curtsied in gratitude for the consideration and returned to slack off.
At this hour, no one would likely wander into the Imperial Garden. Yirong walked for a moment before turning toward it.
Cui Cheng had teased her about it several times. No matter how upset she felt inside, he would say, a look at the flowers and scenery would soothe her spirits—she was easy to coax that way. Yirong let out a long sigh. With Empress Cui so haggard, she was truly worried that it might leave her with a lingering illness down the line.
For some reason, the Imperial Garden felt exceptionally quiet today.
A sea of blossoms stretched out around her, though hints of wilting had already appeared. It had been two months since the Previous Emperor’s sudden death. Yirong had followed Cui Cheng, her young uncle by marriage, into the palace to mourn him. They had escorted his spirit all the way to the Imperial Mausoleum amid endless busyness, and now spring was nearly over!
She slowed her steps and gazed at the flowering trees lining the path beside her. They flowed like colorful clouds, and slowly, a smile curved her lips.
Over there, spring reigned in all its glory. But not far off, atop a jagged rockery, a cold solemnity hung in the air. The attending palace servants held their breath, not daring to make a sound that might disturb the New Emperor.
The New Emperor stood in the pavilion atop the rockery, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed down from on high at the Palace City that now belonged to him.
Two paces behind him stood an eunuch nearing thirty years of age, named Gao Fuliang. He noticed the direction of the New Emperor’s gaze—toward the graceful beauty passing below the rockery. Gao Fuliang nearly shouted at her for wandering where she shouldn’t, but then he caught sight of an expression on the New Emperor’s face that he had never seen before. Instead, he bowed low and said, “Your Majesty, this slave is ignorant. I don’t know which household’s Young Madam she might be. Perhaps she came to the palace to pay respects to an Imperial Concubine.”
Her hairstyle and attire marked her clearly as a married woman. What a pity—she had missed out on a stroke of unimaginable fortune.
In the next instant, the New Emperor spoke, and Gao Fuliang responded without thinking.
“Summon her to enter the palace again tomorrow.”
A gentle spring breeze stirred the air, swaying the flower trees.
One pinkish-purple petal drifted down onto the woman’s forehead. She plucked it off delicately and cradled it in her palm. As she smiled, her poise and grace shone through. The Emperor watched her thoughtfully with his deep black eyes. Her white jade earrings swayed lightly with each step, revealing a glimpse of her slender, fair neck down to the modest collar of her robe.
Before long, she walked out of sight.
Gao Fuliang had only caught a vague outline of her figure, but even so, he could tell this young madam possessed rare beauty. He knew the New Emperor’s eyesight far exceeded that of ordinary men, so he must have gotten a clear look at her face.
Beautiful though she was, he ventured a reminder. “Your Majesty, from her hairstyle, it seems this madam is already married.”
The New Emperor let out a faint hum of acknowledgment.
Gao Fuliang promptly shut his mouth. He knew the New Emperor despised meddlesome advice. Yet the Emperor had remained a bachelor for twenty-four years. How could he suddenly take a fancy to a married woman at first glance—and insist on summoning her to the palace, even knowing her status?
He dared not press the matter further. Instead, he began mulling over how to carry out the Emperor’s command.
Finding out who she was would be simple enough. But what excuse could he use to summon her back to the palace tomorrow?