No one could hold onto an emperor's heart—not even Shen Wei.
Ever since Shen Wei fell out of favor, the bitterness that had long festered in Liu Ruyan's heart dissipated in an instant. In fact, Liu Ruyan even felt a flicker of joy.
The women of the inner palace—the Empress, Liu Ruyan, Concubine Lan, Consort Shu, even Shen Wei—all shared the same fate in the end.
"The wind is picking up. This humble one shall return to her quarters to change. Sister Consort Mei, please do as you wish." Liu Qiao'er didn’t linger either, parting courteously with Liu Ruyan before taking her leave.
Liu Qiao'er returned to her own palace.
Tucked away in a secluded corner, the palace was so rarely visited by the Emperor that it exuded a perpetual chill. Stepping inside, she sat before her mirror and removed her hairpins, studying her reflection.
For years, Liu Qiao'er had lived frugally—eating plainly, dressing modestly, neglecting her complexion. The radiance of her youth had long faded, and no amount of powder could conceal the fine lines at the corners of her eyes.
She had let herself grow old.
With a quiet sigh, Liu Qiao'er traced her fingers over her face and murmured, "The Imperial Noble Consort has lost favor, and the Shen family is about to fall. My chance has come."
All these years, she had kept to herself, moving discreetly through the shadows. Time had proven her choices right.
The hypocritical Empress had fallen. The aloof Liu Ruyan had fallen. The ruthless Consort Shu had fallen. And now, even the once-beloved Imperial Noble Consort Shen Wei was on the verge of collapse—one by one, the towering figures of the imperial harem were crumbling.
Only those with patience would have the last laugh.
Liu Qiao'er smiled at her reflection. From this day forward, she would adorn herself, apply rouge and powder, and tend to her face with care.
In his youth, the Emperor had trained in the southern military camps, frequently visiting Liu Qiao'er’s father and even staying at their family estate. By that measure, she and the Emperor could be considered childhood sweethearts.
Liu Qiao'er was certain it wouldn’t be long before she regained the Emperor’s favor.
Her time had come.
...
...
Shen Wei had barely settled back into Yongning Palace when Cai Lian hurried in to announce that Xiang Yu, the chief maid of Zhang Miaoyu, had arrived with urgent news.
Shen Wei allowed Xiang Yu to enter.
The plump-faced maid rushed in and dropped to her knees, panic written all over her round features. "Imperial Noble Consort, please save my mistress!"
"Don’t panic," Shen Wei said gently. "Speak slowly."
Xiang Yu poured out her woes: "Today was a day of rest, and His Majesty came to Yongchun Palace. He stayed the entire afternoon. My mistress always takes pastries after her noon meal, but with the Emperor present, she didn’t dare eat. She’s starving!"
Zhang Miaoyu was timid, afraid that eating too much would invite the Emperor’s displeasure, so she endured the hunger in silence.
In desperation, she had secretly sent Xiang Yu to seek Shen Wei’s help.
A faint smile touched Shen Wei’s lips as she rose. "My palace kitchen has just prepared some green tea pastries—fresh out of the oven. Take them back for Consort Zhang to try. I’ll change my attire and visit her shortly."
Cai Lian handed Xiang Yu a food box filled with the pastries.
Clutching the box, Xiang Yu bowed repeatedly in gratitude.
...
Yongchun Palace was Zhang Miaoyu’s residence.
Cheerful and generous by nature, Zhang Miaoyu had always maintained a warm rapport with her servants. In the past, Yongchun Palace had been lively, filled with laughter and the aroma of shared meals.
But ever since the Emperor arrived, it was as though a swarm of locusts had descended. The once-harmonious atmosphere vanished, replaced by stifling silence as the palace staff moved about with hushed steps.
Xiang Yu tiptoed back into the inner chamber, carefully carrying the food box. The Emperor sat in the main seat, absorbed in a book, while Zhang Miaoyu perched uneasily on a nearby chair.
"My lady, the Imperial Noble Consort has sent you green tea pastries," Xiang Yu announced, opening the box.
A plate of delicate, leaf-shaped pastries was placed on a small side table.
The recipe was simple—spring tea from the southern tribute, dried and ground into powder, then kneaded with flour and baked to perfection by skilled hands.
Fresh from the oven, the fragrance was irresistible.
Zhang Miaoyu’s fingers twitched with anticipation, but before she could reach for a pastry, Li Yuanjing cleared his throat with deliberate authority.
"Ahem!"
Forcing a smile, Zhang Miaoyu reluctantly asked, "Is Your Majesty tired from reading? Would you care to try a pastry?"
She thought to herself—the Emperor had tasted every delicacy under the sun. Surely he wouldn’t deign to take her measly four pastries.
But to her dismay, Li Yuanjing replied, "Very well. I shall try one."
Biting back her anguish, Zhang Miaoyu instructed Xiang Yu to serve the plate to him.
Li Yuanjing took a bite—and found it quite pleasant.
So he ate all four.
Zhang Miaoyu watched this brazen act of tyranny in silent agony. The Emperor, stealing pastries from a consort! Was there no justice left in this world?
Seething but not daring to protest, she turned away. Xiang Yu shot her a meaningful glance, silently reminding her that Shen Wei would arrive soon to save the day.
...
...
About half an hour later, Shen Wei arrived at Yongchun Palace, clad in a splendid new spring gown and carried by her palanquin.
The atmosphere inside was oppressive, cold and lifeless. Stepping into the inner chamber, Shen Wei spotted Li Yuanjing seated in the main hall, still pretending to read.
Li Yuanjing sat draped in a dragon-embroidered, dark golden round-collar robe, a jade crown atop his head, holding a copy of Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Governance with an air of studied dignity. At first glance, he cut an imposing figure.
Zhang Miaoyu perched awkwardly on a rosewood bench not far away, her plump face tense with unease.
The moment she caught sight of Shen Wei’s slender silhouette, Zhang Miaoyu practically lit up as if spotting a lifeline. She rose eagerly, exclaiming, "Sister Shen Wei! What brings you here? Come in, come in!"
Zhang Miaoyu ushered Shen Wei into the inner chamber.
Li Yuanjing’s attention had long drifted from his book. His ink-dark eyes shifted subtly, stealing a glance at the arriving Shen Wei.
Shen Wei greeted him with composed grace, "This humble one pays respects to Your Majesty."
Without lifting his head, Li Yuanjing replied, "Rise."
With that, he lowered his gaze again, pretending to leaf through Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Governance.
Zhang Miaoyu pulled Shen Wei to a small side table, where they settled in. Shen Wei smiled warmly. "The kitchen just prepared some green tea pastries. One box wouldn’t be enough for you, so I brought two extra. Would you like to try them, Sister Miaoyu?"
Zhang Miaoyu beamed. "Wonderful! Let me taste them right away!"
The two sipped tea, nibbled on the treats, and chatted merrily.
Zhang Miaoyu remarked, "Sister Shen Wei, you smell divine! What perfume are you wearing?"
Shen Wei answered, "It’s magnolia-scented powder from Qixiang Studio in Yanjing City. The day after tomorrow, I’m visiting Anguo Temple—I’ll have my maid fetch a box for you from the market."
Zhang Miaoyu clapped her hands. "How splendid! But why are you going to Anguo Temple?"
Shen Wei explained, "The Empress Dowager worries for Zhao Yang. Unfortunately, Her Majesty hasn’t fully recovered and shouldn’t travel, so she asked me to pray for Zhao Yang’s blessings at the temple."
Back and forth they went, their lively exchange entirely eclipsing Li Yuanjing’s presence at the head of the room.
Li Yuanjing clutched his book, unable to absorb a single word, his ears straining to catch Shen Wei’s voice. Here he sat, impossible to miss, yet Shen Wei had offered nothing beyond that initial greeting.
It grated on him.
Deliberately, he set the book down and feigned a light cough—"Ahem."
Zhang Miaoyu and Shen Wei turned in unison. Zhang Miaoyu asked, "Your Majesty, is your throat troubling you? Shall we summon a physician?"
Li Yuanjing cleared his throat, as if offhandedly mentioning, "The nights have grown chilly lately. A slight chill has taken hold."
