She had brushed with death, yet the first words out of her mouth upon waking were, "I'm hungry." Prince Yan gently brushed aside a stray lock of hair from Shen Wei’s forehead, his eyes brimming with unconcealed tenderness. "Take your medicine first, then you can eat."
"Your Highness, the medicine should be drunk while it’s still warm," Cai Ping said, presenting a bowl of freshly brewed, steaming herbal concoction.
Prince Yan took it upon himself to feed Shen Wei the medicine, spoonful by spoonful. The brew was unbearably bitter, and Shen Wei’s face scrunched up in distaste. After a few sips, she could hardly swallow any more and feigned drowsiness, hoping to escape the ordeal.
"Be good and finish it," Prince Yan chided, showing no leniency as he tipped the remaining half-bowl into her mouth.
The bitterness made Shen Wei want to retch.
Prince Yan stayed by her side a while longer, until summoned by the Eastern Palace to attend to court affairs.
After downing the medicine, Shen Wei drifted in and out of sleep for hours. By dusk, she was fully awake and asked her nursemaid to bring her two newborn sons.
The infants, having been fed, slept soundly in their swaddling clothes. Shen Wei leaned in for a closer look and couldn’t help but think—newborns really were quite ugly...
One boy was plump, the other slender.
Gazing at the thinner child, Shen Wei fretted, "This one’s too small. What did the imperial physician say?"
Cai Ping reassured her, "Don’t worry, Your Highness. It’s common for twins to differ in size. The physician said a few months of care will even them out."
Shen Wei sighed in relief.
The nursemaid took the children back to their quarters. Though Shen Wei had drunk her medicine, the lingering pain from childbirth still gnawed at her—though it was nothing compared to the agony of delivery itself.
Giving birth to twins had been excruciating. At one point, the pain was so unbearable she’d wanted to slam her head against the wall.
The anesthetic she’d prepared beforehand had been pitifully weak, leaving her fully conscious—even able to hear the sound of her own flesh tearing. Closing her eyes, she exhaled deeply. At least it was over now.
The worst was behind her. From here on out, life would only get sweeter.
As Shen Wei rested in bed, Cai Ping filled her in on the events of the past two days. Prince Yan had barely left her side since returning from the Empress’s birthday banquet, even bringing his official documents to her chamber to work.
Yesterday, the Empress herself had visited the Prince Yan’s residence. Though Shen Wei had been unconscious at the time, the Empress had lavished gifts upon the newborns, spending an entire afternoon doting on them in the nursery before departing.
With the Empress showing such favor toward Shen Wei’s children, noblewomen across the court followed suit, flooding the mansion with congratulatory presents.
After a moment’s thought, Shen Wei asked, "Did the South Garrison Marquis's Mansion send anything?"
Cai Ping shook her head, disdain evident. "That household is infamous for their stinginess. The Princess of Pingyang is a miser—don’t expect a single copper from her."
Shen Wei chuckled. The South Garrison Marquis's Mansion was certainly becoming more... entertaining.
...
At the South Garrison Marquis's Mansion, afternoon sunlight spilled into the courtyard. Zhao Qing reclined lazily on a rattan chair, dressed in an elegant summer gown. Beside her, a small rosewood table held two plates of exquisitely crafted pastries—cloud-slice cakes she’d just had fetched from Wei Yan’s bakery.
The Emperor had gifted Zhao Qing four personal maids. Two tidied her chambers indoors, while the other two trimmed the garden hedges.
Zhao Qing basked in the rare tranquility—until hurried footsteps disrupted the peace. Shangguan Xuan stormed into the courtyard, still clad in his crimson official robes.
At the sight of him, Zhao Qing didn’t even bother lifting her eyelids, let alone offer greetings.
Shangguan Xuan, simmering with anger, demanded, "A-Qing, you should have sent at least a token gift to Prince Yan’s concubine for delivering twins."
Though the South Garrison Marquis's Mansion and Prince Yan’s household rarely interacted—even stood on opposing factions—basic courtesies were expected to avoid gossip.
Zhao Qing scoffed. "With what? The mansion’s coffers are empty. The Old Madam has plenty of gold and jade in her quarters—is she willing to part with a piece or two as a gift?"
Shangguan Xuan stiffened. "You’re the lady of the house! How can you shift responsibility to the Old Madam?"
Zhao Qing glared. "Go walk the streets of the capital and see if any other ‘lady of the house’ lives as wretchedly as I do! Had I known this marquis’s mansion was a hollow shell, I’d never have married you last year!"
Once, the South Garrison Marquis's Mansion had leeched off Sun Qingmei to maintain a façade of prosperity in the capital. But after Sun Qingmei divorced Shangguan Xuan and reclaimed her hefty dowry, the mansion was left destitute.
Zhao Qing had entered the marriage expecting a life of luxury—only to find empty coffers. Yet the Old Madam and the second and third branches of the family still demanded the finest comforts, accustomed to their lavish lifestyles.
With no means to sustain them, Zhao Qing realized she’d been duped. Unlike the long-suffering Sun Qingmei, Zhao Qing had no patience for martyrdom. She dismissed most of the mansion’s servants, focusing on her own comfort and leaving the rest of the household to fend for themselves.
Thanks to the Emperor’s gifts of gold and silk—plus her monthly stipend as the Princess of Pingyang—Zhao Qing lived comfortably, dining on delicacies daily.
Meanwhile, the Old Madam and the others struggled, their meals growing coarser by the day. When they tried to pressure Zhao Qing into sharing her wealth, she unleashed a torrent of curses.
Not a single coin of hers would go to "outsiders."
Shangguan Xuan’s face flushed crimson with rage. "You neglect your duties as mistress of the house, flaunting your riches while my mother and sister eat scraps! This is filial impiety!"
Zhao Qing, born of humble origins, had a fiery temper. She’d once played the demure, obedient woman to climb the social ladder—only to end up as the impoverished wife of a hollow marquis. The injustice fueled her fury.
Why bother pretending anymore?
She spat. "Filial piety? Your mother, your sister, your uncles—not a decent one among them! I’m no Sun Qingmei, content to be bled dry for your family’s sake."
Shangguan Xuan’s voice dripped with contempt. "You’re utterly selfish."
Zhao Qing rolled her eyes. "Exactly. If you can’t stand me, let’s divorce. And don’t act so high and mighty—you’re the coldest, most hypocritical miser in this entire mansion."
Shangguan Xuan stood speechless, choking on his own words.
Only now did he see Zhao Qing for what she was—no virtuous match, but a greedy, calculating woman with the crassness of her peasant roots. He found himself longing for Sun Qingmei’s grace, the poise of a noblewoman raised to uphold a household’s dignity.
Yet divorcing Zhao Qing wasn’t an option.
After their wedding last year, Shangguan Xuan had petitioned the Emperor for a post in Liangzhou to defend the borders. Instead, the Emperor assigned him to train the imperial guards—a hollow title, a clear message: the South Garrison Marquis's Mansion was being quietly stripped of power.
Shangguan Xuan took a deep breath, forcing a smile as he spoke. "Zhao Qing, let's set aside the matter of gifts for now. Prince Heng has ordered you to design a highly lethal weapon—you must draft the blueprints within the next two days."
