Yirong stepped forward eagerly and pulled away Xingxiang’s hand from her face.
Clear, bright red finger marks marred her cheek.
Fuming, Yirong strode forward to strike back, but the Eldest Young Madam finally intervened. She pulled back Qiao Miao’e, who was still holding her head high, and offered an ingratiating smile. “Madam Lu, please don’t take offense. She was impulsive and struck your maid. I’ll bring her to your door another day to apologize properly. It’s getting late—why don’t we call it a day? What do you think?”
As she spoke, several Qiao Family maids positioned themselves protectively in front of Qiao Miao’e, eyeing Yirong warily.
Yirong sneered. “So you think an apology is enough?”
Qiao Miao’e shot back, “It’s just a slap to your maid’s face. Even if I slapped you directly, what could you do about it?”
She gave her distant cousin a puzzled look. In the past, the two of them had huddled together gossiping spitefully about Lu Yirong. Why was she being so polite—almost deferential—to her today?
“Shut your mouth,” the Eldest Young Madam snapped sternly, turning her head, though she still shielded Qiao Miao’e.
In the midst of the chaos, Xingxiang tugged at Yirong’s sleeve and whispered, “Madam, my face hurts terribly. Can we go back now?”
There were few of them, and Madam Lu wouldn’t invoke the Emperor’s name to suppress the Qiao family. They were outnumbered; if a real conflict broke out, Madam Lu would come out the worse for it. Better to retreat for now.
Qiao Miao’e let out a derisive snort, earning a tug from the Eldest Young Madam.
Yirong glanced guiltily at Xingxiang and saw that her fair, tender cheek was already swollen red. “All right, let’s go back so I can apply some medicine for you,” she said hastily.
She squeezed Xingxiang’s hand and murmured, “Thank you.”
Ignoring the noises from Qiao Miao’e and her entourage behind her, Yirong led Xingxiang and Shuilian away.
Rage, frustration, and a surge of gratitude warred within her.
Her eldest cousin had always been this overbearing. Back when she’d endured her bullying, Yirong had felt inherently inferior for living under her roof. She hadn’t wanted to trouble her mother with it, so she’d swallowed her pride most of the time.
But watching someone else suffer on her behalf? She couldn’t stomach that.
Yirong’s heart pounded. Suddenly, a soft voice called from behind: “Madam Lu.”
She turned to see Pei Jingqi hurrying after her.
The maids tactfully fell back a little. Pei Jingqi approached, her cheeks faintly flushed. “Madam Lu, please don’t misunderstand. I’m not close with Miss Qiao and know nothing of the grudge between you. I just have a few words I’d like to say, if you’ll indulge me.”
Yirong smiled politely. “Please, Miss Pei, go ahead.”
“I noticed your expression darken when Miss Qiao mentioned the divorce earlier,” Pei Jingqi said gently. “I’m not well-acquainted with you either—just a few brief encounters in the past—but I truly admire your poise and conversation. You’re so beautiful and young; you’ll surely find an even better match in the future.”
A complex mix of emotions stirred in Yirong’s heart. She could guess why those two were fawning over Pei Jingqi: as the Emperor’s cousin with rumors swirling about her becoming Empress, everyone wanted to curry favor.
And yet, Pei Jingqi had said this to her—”find an even better match.”
It was… Yirong managed a small smile, touched by her sincerity. “How could I consider your kind words meddling? I’m not upset by what she said, and thank you for your auspicious blessing.”
Pei Jingqi nodded with a smile. “It’s getting late; I should leave the palace. When you visit these secluded spots in the future, Madam, do bring more maids with you.”
She dipped into a slight curtsy toward Yirong and took her leave.
Yirong watched her retreating figure and sighed.
Back at Central Harmony Hall, she personally applied medicine to Xingxiang’s face and sent her to rest in her room. She also had Shuilian select a few fine pairs of jadeite bangles and some plates of pastries to send over.
How could she get revenge for Xingxiang?
Yirong regretted it deeply. She should have thrown caution to the wind and struck back right then!
Should she complain to the Emperor?
She didn’t want to stay by his side, yet here she was, forced to act coquettish again and beg him to stand up for her…
Besides, Qiao Miao’e had only cursed and struck her because of that meeting with Cui Cheng.
Mentioning him in the Emperor’s presence—who knew if that temper of his would flare up in rage against her again?
All her scheming for today had been ruined by this chance encounter. Who knew when she’d get another opportunity…
Pacing the hall, she bit her lip hard until her strength ebbed away. She stumbled to a low stool by the window and sat, sniffling.
Her eyes grew hot.
Yirong rested her head against the glazed window, twisting her fingers absently. Her heart felt buried in a vast, snowy wasteland, lost and directionless.
Meanwhile, after thanking Shuilian for her visit, Xingxiang carefully washed the medicine from her face once she left and waited quietly for the summons.
Sure enough, Gao Fuliang soon arrived personally to escort her for an audience with the Emperor.
She had gone out with Madam Lu only to return with an injured face—the Emperor would surely ask. As long as she told the truth, she’d be set for life.
Xingxiang’s cheek was badly swollen. After kneeling and paying her respects to the Emperor, she kept her eyes downcast on the floor.
“What happened?”
She recounted every detail from the moment they left—from everything that had befallen Madam Lu onward—without omission.
The Emperor commanded, “Come forward and raise your head.”
Xingxiang took two steps forward and lifted her injured face, still not daring to meet his gaze directly.
The Emperor studied it for a moment, his expression gradually darkening.
Suddenly remembering something she’d omitted, Xingxiang said hastily, “Your Majesty, forgive me—I’ve just recalled one more thing. From what Madam Lu said, it seems Miss Qiao the Eldest has struck her before.”
She repeated their exact words.
The Emperor’s eyes darkened. Without hesitation, he ordered Gao Fuliang, “Reward her generously. The Qiao family doesn’t know how to raise daughters—you go teach them.”
He tapped the desk with bent fingers, his pitch-black eyes growing deeper still. He summoned the four young maids who had followed her out that day and had the eunuchs question them separately.
Their accounts matched perfectly.
She had dismissed the four maids tailing her one by one on her way out, undeterred by the heat and fatigue, traversing nearly half the Imperial Retreat Palace to reach the remote Bitter Neem Grove on the western side.
A few days prior, Cheng Ye had led skilled trackers along routes Cui Cheng might have taken. They’d found an unconscious eunuch who’d been garroted and, after a thorough search nearby, discovered a concealed narrow door allowing free entry and exit from the palace.
That secret door had displeased him greatly.
And the place she was headed matched exactly what Cheng Ye had investigated.
He had pieced together most of it already—especially with her insistence last night on resolving the matter with Lady Cui as quickly as possible. A low chuckle escaped the Emperor’s throat.
The Emperor patiently finished reading a verbose memorial before heading to the bedchamber.
She sat on the low stool by the window, the sunset glow staining half the sky in a poignant crimson. Her exquisite face bore a trace of worry as she gazed thoughtfully. Hearing his approach, she turned with a smile and called softly, “Your Majesty.”
Her demeanor was like that of a wife at home greeting her late-returning husband.
Zheng Yan eyed her impassively for a moment before pulling her to sit. After some idle chatter, he ordered dinner to be served.
The evening meal included the rice wine duck and hibiscus pork she had specifically requested.
Even after the meal, she said nothing about the afternoon’s trouble, her face wreathed in gentle smiles the whole time.
The hall held several basins of flowers, and by the ice cooler, their fragrance was refreshingly clear, soothing the mind.
The Emperor gazed at her fixedly for a while until Yirong, startled, touched her cheek self-consciously and then smiled at him again.
A chill of anger suddenly surged in his heart. His eye fell on the pouch she had set aside, which seemed heavier than usual, bulging noticeably.
When Yirong wasn’t looking, the Emperor swiftly opened it for a glance.
One look was all it took for him to know for certain.
She had never truly wanted to stay.
He had been deceived by her little tricks once again.
Zheng Yan formed this judgment, casually returning the pouch to its place as if nothing had happened. He continued chatting with her idly. “Did you enjoy your afternoon stroll? Did you run into anyone?”
Yirong’s expression stiffened briefly before she nodded. “I did, very much.”
He pressed, “Is there anything you want to say to me?”
“Your Majesty, could I go out for walks more often?” Yirong asked quickly, pleading.
The Emperor withdrew his gaze and said gravely, “As you please.”
She flashed a sweet smile. “Thank you, Your Majesty!”
Before this woman with her face full of tender affection, the Emperor could no longer bear to stay. He rose, said he had matters to attend to, and strode out.
Yirong let out a breath of relief.
She paced the hall to aid digestion, continuing to mull over the thoughts that had occupied her before the Emperor arrived.
Now that he had permitted her outings, she could head straight to the Pingyang Marquis’s Separate Estate. She dared to shout out loud what Qiao Miao’e had said to her—did Qiao Miao’e dare?
Thinking back on all the past entanglements gave Yirong a headache.
She gently cupped her left cheek.
With the Emperor gone, she had no mood to chat with the maids today. She lay down early but couldn’t sleep. Resigned, she got up, dressed properly, and took Shuilian to visit Xingxiang.
Xingxiang shared a room with another palace maid, who was using a boiled egg to gently rub her face. Seeing Yirong arrive, she curtsied silently and withdrew.
Yirong picked up an egg and continued rubbing Xingxiang’s face. “Does it still hurt?”
Xingxiang shook her head. Before she could speak, a young eunuch came in, grinning from ear to ear. “Sister Xingxiang! Madam Lu, you’re here too. May you be well.”
“What’s got you so happy?” Yirong asked.
“Good news! Eunuch Gao himself went to the Qiao Family Villa to reprimand Eldest Miss Qiao. She was so brazen in the Imperial Retreat Palace that she got a good beating—slapped across the face. Ha, if her face isn’t a total mess by now, she’s tougher than she looks!”
The young eunuch gave a thumbs up, winking exaggeratedly as he spoke.
Xingxiang got up and grabbed a few pieces of broken silver for him, sending him on his way.
Yirong sat there in a daze. Shuilian quickly comforted her. “Qiao Miao’e is a fool. Your aunt and uncle must have some idea by now—they won’t let her run her mouth anymore.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, letting out a few hearty chuckles.
Yirong lowered her voice. “How did Eunuch Gao find out? Did Your Majesty learn of it?”
At her words, Xingxiang looked even more surprised. “You didn’t tell His Majesty? He summoned this servant earlier to ask about it, wanting to know how the wounds on my face happened.”
Yirong pressed urgently, “Did His Majesty ask anything else?”
“No. This servant told him that Eldest Miss Qiao had likely struck you before too.” Xingxiang looked at the panicked Yirong and advised, “Madam, by the common folk’s reckoning, His Majesty is your husband now, and the Son of Heaven besides. If you have any grievances, why hide them from him instead of speaking up?”
Yirong’s mind was a whirlwind. She hadn’t expected the Emperor to personally inquire about what was, to him, such a trivial conflict.
He knew, yet he hadn’t mentioned it to her…
She stood and instructed Xingxiang to rest well, then returned to her room.
On the vast bed, she was alone. Yirong curled up on the inner side, eyes wide open as she pondered the Emperor’s intentions, wondering if he had noticed her odd behavior that afternoon…
He had helped her—helped her vent years of pent-up rage.
Yirong truly wanted to see her eldest cousin’s state with her own eyes, to clap and cheer right in her face. Yet she felt deep shame for the thought.
Her cheek pressed against the warm, soft pillow. The night was so quiet she could hear the drip of water from the ice basin. Doubting it was real, she lifted the bed curtains with her slender hand, slipped her feet into soft shoes, and got out of bed.
The night-attendant palace maid softly asked what she needed. Yirong shook her head. Under the melting moonlight, she walked to the ice basin and placed her hand on the ice.
The chill seeped in bit by bit, gradually calming her.
Run.
Since the Emperor had permitted her to go out, how could she give up over one mishap?
She stood by the ice basin for a long time, a strange flicker of emotion flashing through her heart.
Withdrawing her cold, damp hand, Yirong returned to bed and pulled the silk quilt over her face.
The next morning, an eunuch reported from beyond the screen that His Majesty had taken Prince Ning and several imperial clansmen out of the city for a hunt. She should do as she pleased.
Yirong’s eyes darted about. She tied a heavy pouch to her waist and sat in a chair, deep in thought.
Xingxiang couldn’t accompany her today. As for the other two senior palace maids, whichever one it was, dismissing them would be difficult.
She went to visit Xingxiang and saw the finger marks on her face had turned into a horrifying shade of blue and purple. In a low voice, she said, “Thank you for protecting me. It was my fault you got caught up in this.”
Xingxiang smiled. “Don’t think that way, miss. This servant turned a misfortune into a blessing—both His Majesty and you rewarded me.”
Yirong forced a smile and had Xingxiang recount exactly what she had told the Emperor. Though Xingxiang had noticed her strange behavior yesterday, how could she have guessed about the secret door by that grove of trees? The Emperor’s demeanor had been quite ordinary, so she honestly repeated the entire conversation.
After hearing it, Yirong breathed a sigh of relief. The Emperor hadn’t grown suspicious.
He might be displeased that she had hidden the conflict with her eldest cousin from him.
But none of that mattered now. With him out of the palace today, it was her best chance to escape.
Yirong sat restlessly for a while before deciding to suggest a walk after lunch—better to eat one’s fill before setting out.
She also had Shuilian quietly fetch them a pair of practical walking shoes.
After lunch, Yirong announced, “I want to go out for a stroll.”
Zhu Jin and Dan Liu had received special orders that morning. Unsure how to respond naturally, Zhu Jin hesitated before asking, “Shall this servant accompany you?”
Yirong waved her off with a smile. “No need.”
Apart from Shuilian, the usual four junior palace maids clustered around her, eagerly holding umbrellas and fanning her.
Yirong used roughly the same trick as yesterday and successfully dismissed them one by one. A fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead and back. She exchanged a smile with Shuilian.
Almost there.
Soon, she could end these nightmare days of captivity.
Shuilian suddenly halted, worry in her voice. “Miss, if Madam doesn’t want to leave, are we really going to abandon her?”
“She will,” Yirong said, her nose stinging. “In this world, aside from you, only Mother truly cares for me. She’ll come with me for sure.”
But making her frail mother endure the trek back home… Yirong closed her eyes, forcing back her tears, and pressed onward.
Cui Cheng had said the mechanism for the secret door was about twenty paces west from the outermost tree in the Bitter Neem Grove. There was a small brownish mark on the wall—knock it three times firmly.
Yirong confirmed the trees. The sun blazed hot, sweat dripping into her eyes. She wiped it away roughly and searched carefully with Shuilian.
She scanned along the base of the wall for a long time but found no brownish mark.
What shape had he said it was?
Yirong racked her brain, but Cui Cheng had only mentioned it was a small mark.
Refusing to give up—if Cui Cheng could enter through the secret door, how could she fail to find it? She walked back to the edge of the grove and searched the wall step by step.
The heat had her pulling out her handkerchief to wipe her sweat again and again, her anxiety mounting.
No matter how remote this place, patrols of martial guards or palace servants would come eventually.
Shuilian, searching not far off, returned empty-handed. She shook her head at Yirong. “Miss, this servant couldn’t find any mark at all.”
As she shook her head, something caught the corner of her eye. She looked closer, her legs giving way as she sank to the ground and tugged at Yirong’s skirt.
“Miss! Miss!”
Perplexed, Yirong turned her head. In an instant, her whole body went rigid.
Her fingers trembled uncontrollably.
A breeze blew past, her sweat-soaked clothes clinging clammily to her back.
Beneath a tree not far away, the Emperor stood with a purple-gold crown binding his hair, dressed in dark martial robes, arms crossed, a cold smile playing at his lips.