Concubine Qiao's illness struck with terrifying suddenness.
Ten days earlier, Concubine Qiao had listened to the joyous wedding music echoing through the Marquis's Mansion, her lips curling into a wide smile.
How wonderful, truly wonderful! The little girl she had watched grow up day by day was finally tasting the sweetness after hardship—she was to enter the palace as a royal consort!
Sitting by the window, Concubine Qiao gazed in the direction of Yunshu Courtyard, meticulously picturing Jiang Yunshu in her bridal attire.
She thought to herself, Second Miss usually wore no makeup, appearing before Madam Hou with only the faintest touch of powder. Today, properly adorned, who knew how breathtaking she would look…
That night, Concubine Qiao fell asleep with a smile on her face.
It was the most fulfilling day of her life!
The next morning, she was jolted awake by the mournful tolling of funeral bells from the palace.
Dong! Dong! Dong!
Concubine Qiao bolted upright in bed, silently counting each strike as it hammered against her heart.
One, two, three… each toll struck like a blow to her chest!
Forty-five strikes—the emperor had passed away.
Her body went limp, collapsing back onto the bed.
Struggling to rise, she stumbled into the small prayer chamber and dropped to her knees before the Buddha.
She prayed for the Buddha’s mercy—may there be a general amnesty, may the imperial consorts be spared from burial sacrifice.
She begged the Buddha to let Second Miss live… she was only sixteen!
From dawn till dusk, Concubine Qiao knelt before the Buddha, consuming nothing but a single bowl of plain porridge each day.
She made a solemn vow to the Bodhisattva: if her prayers were answered, she would abstain from meat for the rest of her life.
But the Bodhisattva did not hear her plea. Three days later, news reached the Marquis's Mansion—all imperial consorts, save for one who was with child, were to be buried with the deceased emperor.
Upon hearing this, Concubine Qiao fainted on the spot.
When she came to, a gnawing suspicion took root in her mind.
Originally, it had been the eldest daughter who was to enter the palace—an imperial decree had even been issued. Yet somehow, it had been changed to Second Miss.
The excuse given was that the eldest daughter’s birth characters clashed with the emperor’s… but now, that explanation reeked of deceit. Hadn’t they checked the compatibility before issuing the decree?
Concubine Qiao had been too blinded by joy, too overwhelmed by what seemed like a stroke of fortune, to notice the glaring inconsistencies.
The Marquis and Madam Hou had never favored Second Miss—why would such a "blessing" fall upon her?
She had been blind, unable to fathom that entering the palace could be a death sentence.
Her poor Second Miss had been made a sacrificial lamb for her elder sister!
The more she thought, the more certain she became—this had to be the truth.
The Marquis's household must have known the emperor was dying!
"It all makes sense now… everything falls into place…" Concubine Qiao’s eyes burned with a frightening intensity as she scrambled out of bed.
Second Miss could not have died in vain… she had to uncover the truth!
The matter was grave, and she deliberated carefully over whom to approach for information. It had to be someone trustworthy—even if she learned nothing, she couldn’t risk exposing herself.
Perhaps it was her good nature, or perhaps sheer luck…
But most crucially—Concubine Qiao was not Jiang Yunshu’s birth mother!
The servants saw no harm in telling her the truth.
After all, Jiang Yunshu wasn’t her real daughter. What could Concubine Qiao possibly do, even if she knew?
Eventually, a maid from Zhaoyang Courtyard—one whom Jiang Yunshu had once helped—secretly sought out Concubine Qiao.
The maid confessed, "During the days Eldest Miss was burning with fever, I passed by her window and heard her cry out, 'The emperor is about to die! Let Second Sister take my place in the palace!'"
Concubine Qiao trembled with rage. So it was true.
Eldest Miss, the Marquis, Madam Hou… every single one of them had known the emperor was on his deathbed. They had deliberately sent Second Miss to her doom!
In the days that followed, Concubine Qiao subsisted on meager rations, her nights sleepless, sustained only by her determination to uncover the truth.
Now that she knew, her body could no longer endure. Illness crashed over her like a tidal wave.
A long-faded concubine like her received no careful treatment.
When the maid reported her condition to Madam Hou, the latter—mindful of her reputation—summoned a mediocre physician and prescribed some half-hearted remedies.
Whether due to the doctor’s incompetence or the severity of her illness, the medicines did nothing. Concubine Qiao’s fever raged on, unbroken.
Most of the time, her mind drifted in delirium. In rare moments of clarity, she forced herself to swallow the bitter brews and eat what little she could.
She couldn’t die.
If she perished now, how could she face Second Miss in the afterlife?
She had to avenge her.
Concubine Qiao understood why the servants had dared to tell her—they assumed that since Second Miss wasn’t her flesh and blood, she wouldn’t act recklessly.
They had underestimated her!
Second Miss was her daughter—she had called her "Mother"!
When her fever refused to abate, her maid pleaded with Madam Hou for a better physician, returning empty-handed after a long wait.
"Did Madam agree?" Concubine Qiao rasped.
The maid wept. "Madam refused… she said… the concubine could increase the dosage…"
Having lived under Madam Hou’s thumb for years, Concubine Qiao instantly grasped her true meaning.
"Madam’s exact words were, 'If one dose doesn’t work, take two,' weren’t they?" Her voice was hoarse.
The maid hurriedly urged, "Concubine, you must take care of yourself!"
Concubine Qiao laughed. "Do as Madam says. Brew two doses together."
"If one isn’t enough, I’ll take two. If two fail, I’ll take three."
Either the medicine would cure her, or it would kill her!
Miraculously, whether due to the aggressive treatment or her own tenacity, she gradually recovered.
But the illness had ravaged her already slender frame, leaving her gaunt, her bones protruding starkly beneath her skin.
Her personal maid couldn’t bear to look at her emaciated body, choking back sobs. "Concubine, rest well and regain your strength."
Concubine Qiao shook her head. "No. This is perfect."
She could no longer hide away in her small courtyard as before—not when she had a debt of blood to repay.
She remembered the days spent teaching Second Miss to dance within these walls… a beautiful dream.
Now, the dream was over.
It was time to step beyond this courtyard.
Her beauty long faded, she stood no chance of winning the Marquis’s favor. Her only path was through Madam Hou.
Madam despised all concubines—unless they posed no threat, unless they no longer resembled women at all.
Concubine Qiao practiced before her bronze mirror, schooling her skeletal face into a gentle, unthreatening smile.
From painted beauty to walking skeleton—Madam would surely prefer her this way.
---
Weiyang Palace.
Jiang Yunshu made a habit of staying awake until Xie Lin returned each night.
She had discovered that if she fell asleep first, Xie Lin would inevitably rouse her for relentless "activities."
But if she waited up for him, he might leave her untouched.
Thus, her routine solidified. Xie Lin kept late hours and rose early, forcing Jiang Yunshu into the same exhausting cycle.
Each dawn, she dressed him and saw him off before collapsing back into bed for a morning nap.
After lunch, she took another nap.
Only with these two daily respites did she manage to scrape together enough sleep.
She dreamed less frequently of palace concubines demanding her life, but began dreaming often of Concubine Qiao.
A premonition rose in Jiang Yunshu’s heart. She said to Xiazhi and Xiaoman, "When news of my death reaches them, Concubine Qiao will be the most heartbroken."
Her Fourth Younger Sister and Fifth Younger Sister would shed tears for her, but the deepest grief would undoubtedly be Concubine Qiao’s.
"Concubine Qiao will likely fall ill from sorrow," Jiang Yunshu sighed.
She had anticipated Concubine Qiao’s illness, but not how severe it would be—how close she would come to death’s door.
At night, after attending to Xie Lin’s rest, Jiang Yunshu cautiously asked, "Master, might this humble concubine send something outside?"
Xie Lin raised a brow, his gaze sweeping over her. "What could you possibly have to send?"
Jiang Yunshu flushed. She truly owned nothing of value. Her bridal gown from entering the palace had long been torn to shreds. The jewels from her hairpieces had been pried out and given to Taoye and Zhezhi for their survival, and the heavy golden headpiece had vanished into someone else’s hands.
She didn’t even have a single garment of her own—what she wore now was Xie Lin’s sleeping robe…
Lowering her voice, she said, "Nothing precious. Just a plate of pastries, a few fruits…"
"In the Marquis’s Mansion, I was close to one of my father’s concubines. The delicacies and luxuries I now have in Weiyang Palace are things she has never even seen."
"I know sending a letter is impossible, but could I at least send Concubine Qiao something? Secretly, without leaving a name!"
Jiang Yunshu thought that Concubine Qiao was clever enough. If she received these gifts, she might guess Jiang Yunshu was still alive—or at least cling to a sliver of hope…
Xie Lin frowned in confusion. "Is Concubine Qiao your birth mother?"
Jiang Yunshu: "No. My birth mother died in childbirth. Concubine Qiao and I share no blood ties."
Xie Lin’s brows tightened. Had Jiang Yunshu wished to send something to her birth mother, he might have understood. But sending gifts to a mere concubine of her father’s—was this an attempt to pass along information?
He pinched her chin. "Concubine Jiang and the Marquis’s Second Miss are already dead. Who else could she be sending things to?"
Jiang Yunshu hurriedly pleaded with her eyes. "This humble concubine knows her mistake."
That night, when Xie Lin once again made Jiang Yunshu "nurture the jade," she couldn’t help but murmur, "I’m already dead… how can a dead person nurture jade…"
She hadn’t expected Xie Lin’s hearing to be so sharp—even words she could barely hear herself, he caught perfectly.
Because of that one sentence, Jiang Yunshu was forced to endure an extra half-hour of torment.
Time had never crawled so slowly…
As she suffered, she cursed inwardly—what nonsense was this "nurturing jade"? May all those wretched jade beads shatter to pieces!
But the moment the curse left her mind, fear took over, and she hastily amended her thoughts.
Just… not right now…
