If not for Zhang Miaoyu bringing it up, Zhao Yang would have nearly forgotten about Yan Yunting.
Back then, she had loved Yan Yunting so desperately that she even cast aside her noble status as a princess to vie for his affection against a girl from a minor family.
Over the years, Zhao Yang had matured greatly, no longer fixated on petty romantic entanglements. Looking back, she realized how childish and laughable her past self had been.
"I will never marry him," Zhao Yang said calmly.
Zhang Miaoyu tilted her head. "But didn’t Your Highness swear you’d marry no one else?"
Princess Zhao Yang was now twenty-three, yet she remained unmarried—a fact that baffled many. The Emperor had tried several times to arrange a marriage for her, even selecting suitable candidates, but Zhao Yang refused them all.
Rumors spread that she was waiting for Yan Yunting’s return, hence her reluctance to wed.
Zhao Yang rested her chin on her hand, gazing at the three young girls laughing in the garden, her voice tinged with melancholy. "I find aiding the common folk more meaningful than marriage. Sometimes, I truly wish never to marry at all."
Zhang Miaoyu silently savored the gossip—it seemed Young Master Yan’s carefully laid plans were about to crumble.
...
...
Donghua Mountain.
At the break of dawn, white mist curled over the mountain wilderness. Outside the royal retreat on Donghua Mountain, a line of magnificent imperial carriages stood in formation, while palace servants bustled about, loading trunks upon trunks of luggage.
Golden morning light seeped through the clouds as Shen Wei boarded her carriage.
The heavy wheels creaked into motion, and the long procession of carriages slowly made its way along the imperial road toward Yanjing City.
The royal road was smooth, ensuring a steady ride. Inside the spacious carriage, Shen Wei sat with her two sons. Le You, meanwhile, was with the Empress Dowager in the carriage ahead.
Shen Wei yawned, her eyelids heavy from waking so early. Li Chengyou lay sprawled on the cushioned seat beside her, limbs splayed like a little frog on its back.
She tucked a soft blanket around Chengyou before settling against a pillow for a light nap. Before dozing off, she turned to her eldest son. "The journey is tiring. Put the book aside and rest with me, won’t you?"
Li Chengtai, clutching a copy of the Three Character Classic, shook his head. "Mother, I’m not tired."
Shen Wei didn’t press further, trusting her son’s judgment. The rhythmic sway of the carriage soon lulled her to sleep.
Chengtai set down his book and carefully draped a woolen blanket over his mother.
His small face darkened with worry. They were about to return to the palace, yet his oblivious mother and brother could still sleep soundly.
The Qing State palace was a den of wolves and tigers—a place that devoured people without spitting out bones.
Chengtai glared at his peacefully sleeping brother—How can you sleep at a time like this? At your age, in your position, how can you just nap away? Have you no ambition?
Anxious but resolute, he flipped through two more pages of his book. Worrying was useless—he had to study harder, grow stronger, so he could protect his mother, sister, and brother.
Shen Wei slept until noon, waking only when the procession halted for a break. At this pace, they would reach the imperial city by dusk. Tonight, she might share a bed with Li Yuanjing.
She needed to rest well now to conserve her energy for the emperor tonight.
"Your Grace, lunch is ready," Cai Lian announced, bringing the prepared meal into the carriage.
The interior was spacious enough for both the cushioned seating and a small dining table.
The three of them ate together.
Shen Wei suddenly remembered something. Though the emperor had sent her a tenderly worded letter ahead of their return, he had yet to confer her a title or even assign her a palace.
She turned to Cai Lian. "Any news on what title the Emperor has chosen for me?"
She had borne him a daughter and two sons, and her brother was a general. While she didn’t expect the rank of Noble Consort, she at least deserved the status of an imperial consort.
Titles for consorts were typically chosen from the four virtues—"Benevolent," "Virtuous," "Wise," or "Noble"—such as Lu Xuan’s title of "Virtuous Consort." Alternatively, the emperor could bestow a unique title, like Liu Ruyan’s "Plum Consort."
Cai Lian shook her head. "His Majesty hasn’t issued an edict yet."
Shen Wei stroked her chin. Knowing Li Yuanjing, he wasn’t one to overlook such details.
"He must still be deciding on a title..." she murmured.
Li Chengtai, halfway through his steamed egg custard, suddenly lost his appetite. How heartless of Father. Mother bore him three children, yet he can’t even be bothered to grant her a title.
And his naive mother still believed the emperor was merely deliberating.
"Brother, if you’re not eating your custard, can I have it?" Chengyou, noticing his brother’s hesitation, eagerly leaned over, ready to help himself.
Chengtai glared at him, his childish voice scolding, "Eat, eat, all you ever think about is eating! You haven’t even memorized the Three Character Classic, and you still have the stomach for food? How can you sleep so soundly?"
Chengyou lowered his head in silence. Brother is so scary.
He was scared.
...
The imperial procession continued without incident. By twilight, they finally arrived at the bustling Yanjing City.
The emperor had arranged a grand welcome for the Empress Dowager’s return. Imperial guards and ceremonial officials lined the eastern gate’s royal road, awaiting the procession. As the carriages entered the city, their pace slowed.
Shen Wei lifted the curtain, taking in the sight of the majestic Qing State palace—its emerald-green tiles and soaring eaves exuding solemn grandeur. Her thoughts drifted back to the undulating peaks of Donghua Mountain, its misty ridges stretching endlessly.
But Donghua Mountain was now just a memory.
"Wow, Mother, the palace is even bigger than in the storybooks!" Chengyou exclaimed, his mouth agape as he peeked outside.
Chengtai tugged his brother’s sleeve. "Remember what the maids taught you. Don’t run around later."
The procession halted.
Shen Wei stepped out with her two children.
Before the towering gates of the Qing State palace, the vast forecourt was lined with armored imperial guards.
To welcome the Empress Dowager’s return, Emperor Li Yuanjing stood at the forefront, flanked by his officials and consorts. Black-and-gold banners emblazoned with the character "Qing" fluttered in the wind.
The spectacle was magnificent.
Shen Wei’s gaze swept across the grand palace walls and fluttering banners before finally settling on the familiar figure standing before the white jade bridge.
It was Li Yuanjing—dressed in his black-and-gold imperial robes. His features had grown more austere, his presence sharper than during their days in the Yan Manor, now bearing the weight of the throne.
Bathed in the golden sunset, his regal authority was undeniable.
A breeze stirred the banners. Across the distance, their eyes met.
Tears glistened in Shen Wei’s eyes as her lips curved into a soft smile, her gaze still brimming with the same affection as before. Li Yuanjing’s pupils constricted slightly, his stance faltering almost imperceptibly.
Three years of separation.
Yet in that moment, it was as if no time had passed at all.
"Mother, is that Father? He’s even taller than in the portraits," Chengyou whispered, clutching Shen Wei’s hand as he stared in awe.
Li Chengtai held Shen Wei's right hand, seeing his living father-emperor for the first time. He felt a mix of fear, curiosity, and above all, wariness.
Behind the emperor stood many beautiful concubines. Once his mother returned to the palace, she would surely face their bullying.
At this thought, Li Chengtai silently lowered his head, hiding the worry in his eyes.
Shen Wei walked behind the empress dowager, holding her child’s hand as they approached the palace gates. Her gaze swiftly swept over the rows of kneeling civil and military officials on the left—many were new faces, likely officials cultivated by the emperor after his ascension.
After observing the ministers, Shen Wei glanced at the dozen or so concubines on the right, dressed in festive attire.
At the forefront stood the empress, her sharp brows and eyes making her appear even older than she had in the prince’s residence years ago. No amount of powder and rouge could conceal the wrinkles on her face.
Beside the empress were Consort Mei, Liu Ruyan, and Consort Shu, Lu Xuan—two women whose beauty was equally striking. One resembled the cold elegance of winter plum blossoms, the other the vibrant allure of spring peonies.
Lu Xuan’s makeup was exquisite, her charm enchanting, and though her gaze seemed gentle and obedient, there was a hidden scrutiny as she observed Shen Wei.
Further back stood the plump Zhang Miaoyu, Consort Lan Xie Fanglan, and the other concubines.
"Your son welcomes Mother Empress."
Li Yuanjing stepped forward, leading the officials and concubines in paying their respects.
The empress dowager smiled warmly, helping Li Yuanjing rise. "Please, rise quickly."
Beside the empress dowager, little Le You blinked her large eyes, staring excitedly at the towering man before her. Her voice soft and clumsy, she performed an awkward curtsy. "Father Emperor, Le You greets you."
Le You longed to hug her father but remembered the etiquette taught by the palace matrons—no childish behavior in solemn settings.
So she could only gaze at him with adoration, her small face filled with curiosity.
Li Yuanjing’s hand trembled slightly as he looked at his delicate, porcelain-like daughter, his heart softening. He took her tiny hand in his, countless words condensed into one sentence: "Le You, you’ve grown."
Le You responded with a sweet smile.
With imperial guards clearing the way and palace attendants carrying lanterns, Li Yuanjing and the empress dowager stepped into the majestic palace.
Night was approaching, and the empress dowager was weary from travel, so the welcoming banquet was postponed until the next day. To demonstrate filial piety, Li Yuanjing personally escorted her to Cining Palace.
...
After the welcoming ceremony, the concubines and officials gradually dispersed, each harboring their own thoughts and schemes.
In Kunning Palace, the empress angrily drank two cups of tea before suppressing the fury in her heart.
"That Shen woman hasn’t changed at all!" The empress had assumed that after bearing three children, Shen Wei’s beauty would wither like fallen petals, leaving her aged and faded.
The empress herself had given birth—childbirth drained a woman’s vitality, often hastening her decline.
Yet today, Shen Wei appeared not only untouched by time but even more radiant than before—her face like polished silver, her dark eyes gleaming with a soft, enchanting allure. There was a vibrant energy about her, something the secluded concubines of the inner palace lacked.
A vitality that was lively, flourishing.
The empress even wondered aloud, "Could that Shen woman be a fox spirit in disguise?"
