"Your Highness, this servant dares not, truly dares not!"
If Miss Jingchu were to hear such words, his fate would be to be stuffed into an iron cage and sunk into the pond with a gurgle.
Seeing He Zhuer on the verge of tears, his toes trembling as if he might drop to his knees and kowtow any moment, the Crown Prince withdrew his gaze and adjusted his quiver, clearing his throat lightly. Perhaps he had read too many imperial edicts lately.
With this thought, a faint smile touched his lips. "Enough. I was merely teasing you."
Having said this, the Crown Prince drew his bow, narrowing his phoenix-like eyes—identical to Emperor Kangxi’s—as he took aim at the target. A moment later, his fingers released, and the sharp whistle of arrows cutting through the air followed. Eight out of ten shots struck the bullseye. After another half-hour of practice, a dull ache settled into his shoulders and elbows.
Turning his head, he noticed He Zhuer standing stiffly, lips sealed tight, not daring to utter a word. The Crown Prince arched a brow, set aside his equipment, and chuckled. "Take my token and go to the Imperial Hospital yourself. Fetch some ointment to soothe the muscles and joints."
He Zhuer instantly perked up as if injected with vigor, loudly acknowledging the order before scurrying away like a startled hare.
The physicians of the Imperial Hospital were all masters of their craft, though each specialized in different areas. A versatile talent like Grand Imperial Physician Chen was rare. One thing, however, was undeniable—they excelled in pulse diagnosis, particularly in detecting pregnancy, and had their own well-honed methods for nurturing and preserving pregnancies. In short, practice made perfect. In the depths of the palace, everyone had their own unique skills.
Among them was Imperial Physician Min, renowned for his expertise in preparing medicinal ointments. He was skilled at refining herbs, crushing and boiling them into salves, whether for bruises or other ailments. Beyond that, the palace ladies adored his Jade Beauty Cream—aptly named for its remarkable effects in preserving youth and enhancing beauty.
However, its high cost forced Imperial Physician Min to set a steep price. Whenever the ladies received their monthly allowances and saved up, they would stockpile a jar without hesitation. After all, youth was fleeting, and in the harem, appearances were everything.
Naturally, Yunxiu’s vanity was never without a jar of Jade Beauty Cream.
He Zhuer, being the Crown Prince’s most trusted personal eunuch, was someone the physicians and their assistants dared not slight. Upon his master’s orders, He Zhuer inquired and learned that Imperial Physician Min was on duty that day. Relieved, he dashed straight to the medicine cabinets.
Near the cabinets, hushed voices murmured. He Zhuer squinted—ah, wasn’t that Chief Eunuch Liang?
From his angle, he saw Chief Eunuch Liang slip a familiar-looking jar into his sleeve, the label flashing briefly with three small characters. He Zhuer edged closer, straining his ears to catch snippets of the conversation.
"This Jade Beauty Cream must be applied morning and night for seven days without interruption," Imperial Physician Min said cautiously.
Chief Eunuch Liang repeated the instructions under his breath before nodding in satisfaction. "This servant will remember. His Majesty will not forget your contribution."
He Zhuer wondered if he had misheard.
Jade Beauty Cream? His Majesty?
He stiffened, retreating a few steps before forcing a smile. Chief Eunuch Liang turned just then, locking eyes with him.
A pang of alarm shot through Chief Eunuch Liang, who discreetly tucked the cream deeper into his sleeve and said with practiced nonchalance, "What a coincidence."
He Zhuer bowed obsequiously. "Indeed, indeed. This servant greets Chief Eunuch Liang. The Crown Prince sent me to fetch some muscle-soothing ointment."
Chief Eunuch Liang grew uneasy. Had this boy overheard anything?
He couldn’t ask outright—that would be as good as admitting guilt. So he merely hummed in acknowledgment, shooting Imperial Physician Min a meaningful glance: You know what to say and what not to say.
Imperial Physician Min nodded nervously.
The Emperor sending someone for Jade Beauty Cream—what kind of situation was this?
He Zhuer pretended ignorance, watching Chief Eunuch Liang depart with a deferential smile. "Safe travels, Chief Eunuch."
"Jade Beauty Cream?" The Crown Prince’s brush hand jerked, ruining half of the calligraphy he had been practicing for mental discipline.
"His Majesty is in his prime, barely older than Mother Yi. Why would he need Jade Beauty Cream?" After a moment of wandering thoughts, he seized the crux of the matter, setting down his brush in puzzlement. "My younger siblings will soon be born, even younger than the Eldest Prince’s children..."
At thirty-six or thirty-seven, one could hardly call it old age.
After a long silence, the Crown Prince suddenly recalled his ninth brother Yintang’s reaction upon learning of Mother Yi’s pregnancy. The boy’s round face had flickered with excitement, joy, and something more complicated before he muttered, "Truly, age is no barrier," with the tenth brother chiming in agreement.
The Crown Prince had patted Yintang’s head at the time, dismissing it. But now, "age is no barrier"—had they been referring to His Majesty?
His expression twisted strangely. He Zhuer ventured timidly, "Your Highness?"
"It’s nothing." The Crown Prince collected himself, deciding against probing further.
Better not to ask about the Jade Beauty Cream, lest His Majesty fly into a rage. He could simply observe whether His Majesty’s complexion had grown smoother and more radiant.
They say women dress up for those who appreciate them—who knew His Majesty feared Mother Yi might find him lacking? Today had been enlightening indeed.
Outside the study, a young eunuch announced the arrival of the Imperial Household Department’s steward to discuss the wedding arrangements, this time concerning the selection of the ceremonial envoy.
"Your Highness, what about Young Master Geerfen?"
Traditionally, the envoy was chosen from the maternal clan, symbolizing closeness and trust. When the Eldest Prince married, his cousin Kuixu had been given the role, draped in red silk as he led the procession to the Eldest Princess Consort’s family estate. Now it was the Crown Prince’s turn.
The ideal candidate would undoubtedly be Suo Etu’s youngest son, Geerfen. Close in age, the Crown Prince had once been fond of him, affectionately calling him "Uncle" in their youth.
At this thought, the Crown Prince’s smile faded.
He sighed softly. "The Hesheli family is unsuitable. Choose someone from the imperial clan instead."
Suo Residence.
Though stripped of his official post, Suo Etu still held his noble title. As mid-March approached, the entire capital buzzed with anticipation for the grand ceremony welcoming the Crown Princess. The Hesheli clan was no exception.
The Crown Prince’s wedding was, in a way, their affair too. As the maternal family of the heir apparent, they had languished in obscurity for far too long—so long that the Crown Prince had all but forgotten them. Worse, their pillar, Suo Etu, had lost his former influence, alienating countless noble houses in his scramble for funds. Now, he could barely protect himself.
His earlier objections to the Crown Princess’s selection had been futile.
All their schemes had come to naught, leaving the clan in anxious limbo, pinning their hopes on the Crown Prince’s eventual involvement in governance to restore their past glory.
Geerfen, in his early twenties, was Suo Etu’s cherished youngest son. Sheltered and never involved in any heinous deeds, he had escaped punishment during the Emperor’s purge of Suo Etu.
After Suo Etu's fall from power, he could no longer provide much shelter for his family. Geerfen now held a minor sixth-rank position in the Ministry of Works—a role with little influence, meager benefits, and endless drudgery. Returning from the yamen each day, he was often steeped in frustration.
The Crown Prince's grand wedding was imminent, and Geerfen, having long awaited this opportunity, grew restless. He began probing for information on who would oversee the bridal procession, hoping to rekindle ties with the Crown Prince—both for his family’s prospects and his own future. When Suo Etu learned of this, he tacitly approved and even leveraged his remaining connections in the Imperial Household Department to push the matter forward.
One day, Geerfen returned home with a stormy expression. After a long, heavy silence, he finally spoke: "Father, the Crown Prince has chosen Baotai from Prince Yu’s household to lead the procession."
Suo Etu’s hand trembled as he poured tea, his brow furrowing into deep, knife-like wrinkles. After a pause, he replied calmly, "His Majesty has grown weary of this old man. The Crown Prince is merely avoiding suspicion."
"Avoiding suspicion?" Geerfen’s eyes reddened as he let out a bitter laugh, teeth clenched. "I think not. How many years has the Crown Prince been ‘avoiding suspicion’? Back then, the Eldest Prince was thick as thieves with the Nara Clan—did the Emperor ever raise an objection? Father, I believe he’s long forgotten his maternal family, forgotten Empress Renxiao, and fallen entirely under the spell of that woman, Noble Consort Yi!"
Had it not been for the Crown Prince, Empress Renxiao would never have died in childbirth. And if she were still alive, how could an upstart like Mrs. Guoluoluo have risen to such arrogance?
"Geerfen, silence!"
At the mention of "Noble Consort Yi," Suo Etu slammed his teacup down, his eyes darkening with storm clouds. Seeing Geerfen still seething, he struck the table and barked, "Mind your words!"
Geerfen’s chest heaved violently before he finally lowered his head. "I’ve overstepped."
Suo Etu sighed deeply. "You’re still young. Your temper remains untamed—you must learn restraint."
Despite the setback with the procession overseer, Suo Etu showed no trace of agitation, a stark contrast to his usual proud impatience. It was as though years of trials had tempered him into stillness.
"Father, how can you remain so unruffled?" Geerfen couldn’t help but ask.
Suo Etu shook his head and raised a finger, preparing to lecture at length—
Just then, a servant knocked at the door, voice trembling as if he’d seen a ghost. "Master, someone... someone is requesting an audience at the hidden gate!"
Suo Etu narrowed his eyes, fingers tracing the rim of his cup. "Who?"
The concealed door, hidden behind overgrown weeds, creaked open slowly.
Even with his suspicions, Suo Etu couldn’t mask his shock.
Geerfen’s eyes widened. "You—?"
Before them stood a young man in a faded, yellowed robe, exuding an air of utter destitution. His face was smeared with grime, a long, jagged scar cutting across his cheek, lending him a savage, menacing appearance.
He shuffled forward step by step, legs dragging unevenly, as though he might collapse at any moment.
Longkodo grinned. "Minister Suo, it’s been a while."
