The Purple Palace Hall.
Shen Wen, head of the Shen Family, knelt on the ground, his forehead dripping with cold sweat as he thought of Shen Hua'er, who had turned the household upside down with her protests.
"Minister Shen is one of our most valued officials, and you have raised your daughter so well—truly commendable." Emperor Yuanyou's words should have been reassuring, but Shen Wen dared not relax for even a moment.
"It is merely my duty," he replied humbly.
The emperor nodded, then continued as if making casual conversation. "Now that the Crown Prince is bedridden by illness, I no longer hold hope for his full recovery. All I wish is for the children of the Eastern Palace to grow with noble character."
"What I value most about your daughter is her ability to guide them well."
Shen Wen felt as though he had been drenched in cold water, his heart trembling uncontrollably. The emperor’s words were an unmistakable warning to the Shen Family—a clear signal that the Crown Prince would likely never ascend the throne, and that the family should harbor no further ambitions.
"This humble servant shall heed Your Majesty’s guidance."
Only then did Emperor Yuanyou seem satisfied, cheerfully inviting Shen Wen to a game of chess.
"With the Crown Prince unable to rise from his bed, I fear Hua'er’s wedding will be less than ideal," the emperor remarked, placing a piece on the board. "I recall your second son has been stationed in Xizhou for three years. Next year, he shall be recalled to the capital."
Shen Wen’s heart swelled with joy, and his dissatisfaction with the marriage arrangement gradually faded.
"Your servant thanks Your Majesty for this boundless grace."
After Shen Wen departed, Emperor Yuanyou was about to retire to his inner chambers for a brief rest when Wu Qi’s voice interrupted him.
"Your Majesty, Prince Qin and Princess Fu'an have arrived."
The emperor instantly perked up.
The next moment, Song Yu strode in with Song Shihuan in tow.
"Imperial Grandfather, you should have seen how magnificent Father was at the military camp today!"
Song Shihuan’s eyes sparkled with admiration, while Song Yu looked as though he might sprout a tail and wag it to the heavens.
Emperor Yuanyou gave his son a sidelong glance, mentally sifting through what possible achievement this scoundrel could have managed.
After some deliberation, he came up with nothing.
"You went to the military camp?" the emperor asked slowly. "With that arrogance of yours, how did you even manage to hold your ground?"
The soldiers there were all hardened men, their skills anything but ornamental.
"Father, you underestimate me," Song Yu protested, unwilling to let this rare moment of glory slip away. "A-Huan, tell your Imperial Grandfather exactly how impressive I was today."
Obliging, Song Shihuan nodded eagerly and launched into a vivid retelling of the day’s events.
By the end, Emperor Yuanyou’s stunned expression rivaled Shen Qingping’s.
This couldn’t be right.
"‘Long live Great Qi, long live our warriors’—you actually said that?" the emperor repeated. "Since when do such words come from your mouth?"
Hearing it made him want to grab a sword and charge back onto the battlefield himself.
Song Yu lifted his chin proudly.
"Alas, this is the best I could muster."
Instantly, both Emperor Yuanyou and Song Shihuan winced at the sheer cheesiness.
Even Song Shihuan’s gaze wavered—her father had clearly gone overboard, borrowing lines straight out of a theatrical script.
Emperor Yuanyou swiftly kicked Song Yu in the shin. "Stop reading those ridiculous plays."
Grimacing and rubbing his leg, Song Yu pressed, "But admit it—was I impressive or not?"
"You… should visit the military camp more often. The soldiers will remember you for it."
That was the highest praise the emperor could offer.
Watching the undisguised delight in Emperor Yuanyou’s eyes, Song Shihuan clenched her fists inside her sleeves. She was certain—her grandfather was now considering replacing the Crown Prince.
On the way back to Prince Qin’s estate, Song Yu was still basking in the memory of his triumph at the training grounds.
"Such a simple phrase—why has no one ever said it before?"
Shen Qingping, meanwhile, was gloomily scribbling and scratching out words on paper.
Song Shihuan blinked her almond-shaped eyes. "Because everyone only dares to say ‘Long live the Emperor.’ No one would dare proclaim ‘Long live the soldiers.’"
"They don’t even dare that much?"
Rip—
The paper in Shen Qingping’s hands tore clean in half as he shot Song Yu a resentful glare. Since when had His Highness become so insufferably smug?
Anyone else wouldn’t have dared say such a thing even with ten extra lives to spare.
......
Half a month later, the day of Shen Hua'er’s wedding arrived.
Tear-stained and disheveled, Shen Hua'er sobbed uncontrollably.
"Mother, must I really marry him? I don’t want to wed the Crown Prince!" Her voice broke between gasps. "Please beg Father for me—I’d rather marry a commoner!"
"Hua'er, defying an imperial decree is punishable by death," Lady Shen said, her own heart aching. "Your father and I have prepared extra dowry for you—it will help you settle in the Eastern Palace."
"Take care of the Crown Prince. If his health improves, so will your life."
As she spoke, Lady Shen wiped away her own tears. In the Crown Prince’s current state, what difference was there between this marriage and widowhood?
No matter how bitterly Shen Hua'er wept, the maidservants eventually dragged her into the bridal carriage.
The Eastern Palace was draped in red silk once more, yet the servants’ faces bore no trace of joy.
The gates of Li Garden remained firmly shut. Inside, the Crown Prince’s Secondary Consort sat motionless on a prayer mat, chanting Buddhist scriptures.
"Your Ladyship, the wedding party has returned," the nanny murmured. "This old servant overheard that Consort Hui specially arranged for a rooster to stand in for the Crown Prince during the ceremony."
In all her years, she had never witnessed such a farcical wedding.
"After today, we must address her as the Crown Princess."
The Secondary Consort’s expression remained placid. "With a Crown Princess in the Eastern Palace, I can finally focus on praying for A-Huan’s blessings."
The nanny sighed inwardly but said no more.
In the front courtyard, few guests had gathered—most had been too traumatized by Song Yanzheng’s previous wedding and had concocted endless excuses to avoid this one.
When it came time for the ceremony, Shen Hua'er, veiled in red, was guided into the hall by palace attendants.
Suddenly—
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
A rooster’s crow pierced the air.
Shen Hua'er gasped, the apple in her hands clattering to the floor.
"Why is there a rooster here?" Her voice trembled with horror.
"His Highness the Crown Prince is indisposed and unable to attend," the Master of Ceremonies Eunuch intoned. "According to ancient custom, a rooster may take his place."
Shen Hua'er felt as though her very bones had turned to ice.
A daughter of the Shen Family… reduced to marrying a rooster?
For the rest of the ceremony, she moved like a puppet, numbly allowing the attendants to lead her to the bridal chamber.
The chamber was deathly silent.
Shen Hua'er lifted her veil, took one look at the Crown Prince lying motionless on the bed, and burst into fresh tears.
The more she thought, the more hopeless life seemed.
One incense stick’s time later, she tore the bridal robes from her body, twisted them into a rope, and hung herself from the rafters.
