The Purple Dawn Palace.
"How is the child?"
Mei Zhilin let out a light sigh at the question. "The young mistress has awakened, Your Majesty. Why not visit the side chamber yourself?"
Emperor Yuanyou glared, his beard bristling with irritation. "You old fool, even you dare to tease me now?"
Mei Zhilin straightened his expression. "Your Majesty, the young mistress is already smaller and frailer than most children her age, and that strike landed squarely on her spine."
"I recommend keeping her in the Purple Dawn Palace for at least a month. The journey back to the Qin Prince's Mansion would be too rough—her body might not withstand it."
"That’s easily arranged. Let Ah Huan stay here." Emperor Yuanyou’s voice carried deep regret. "Mei Zhilin, all the medicinal herbs in the palace are at your disposal for her recovery. I entrust her to you."
"Your servant obeys."
After Mei Zhilin withdrew, the hall fell into silence.
Emperor Yuanyou gazed toward the side chamber, his heart heavy.
"Wu Qi, do you think Ah Huan believes me cruel?"
He had never imagined those eunuchs would strike so mercilessly. Damn them!
The chief eunuch Wu Qi hesitated, bowing even lower. "The young mistress is of Your Majesty’s blood. Surely she reveres you."
"When the Qin Prince demanded I summon the imperial physician for Ah Huan, my heart was in turmoil." The emperor’s fingers traced the rough jade pendant at his waist—a humble piece he treasured beyond measure.
"Her mother was fiercely protective in life. If she knew I struck her son and granddaughter, she’d have barred me from our chambers."
His eyes darkened with unspoken grief. "Come. Let us see them."
......
Side Chamber.
"Ah Huan, does it hurt? Shall I read you a story to distract you?"
Song Shihuan lay prone on the bed, watching Song Yu flit about like a headless fly. Since she’d opened her eyes, he hadn’t stopped talking—tucking in her blankets, smoothing her hair, ignoring his own lacerated back.
She blinked slowly. "Father, I’m fine."
"You call this fine?" Song Yu’s expression hardened. "Song Shihuan, do you realize another fraction of force in that strike could have left you paralyzed for life?"
"I’m a grown man—what does a few strikes matter? You’re just a child. Why take the blow for me?"
His fingers trembled as they closed around hers.
Noticing his unsteadiness, Song Shihuan parted her lips to respond when movement at the doorway caught her eye.
Emperor Yuanyou stood outside.
She lowered her lashes. "I saw those men swinging with all their strength. I was scared."
"You’ll grow accustomed. With your grandmother around, I’ve lost count of my beatings." Song Yu shrugged. "Might as well get used to dying by the rod one day."
Amusement glimmered in Song Shihuan’s eyes.
Her father was playing along perfectly.
Beyond the door, Emperor Yuanyou stiffened.
"But Father, you didn’t push Grandmother forcefully, did you?" Her voice held certainty. "Why not explain to His Majesty? Then you wouldn’t have been punished."
"Who’d listen to me? Better to endure the beating quickly and return home for music."
A wince escaped him as his wounds protested against the chair.
"That’s wrong."
Song Shihuan set her jaw. "I’m ten now. My ears hear, my eyes see. I believe every word you say, so you must explain everything to me."
"Such a little philosopher."
Song Yu produced two storybooks as if by magic, his smirk fading when he met her wounded expression.
"If you pushed Grandmother, you’d be a villain. I don’t want Father to be a villain."
"Of course I didn’t!" he blurted, defenses crumbling. "I only moved her aside to prevent her standing between me and His Majesty."
She pouted. "Then why say Grandmother framed you? Was that a lie?"
"Absolutely not! I was truly wronged back then."
Song Yu nearly raised his hand in oath.
No chance he’d let Ah Huan think him wicked.
"I knew it. Father is the best in all the world."
Her radiant smile returned.
Outside, Emperor Yuanyou swayed, breath coming ragged.
Wu Qi steadied him, poised to call physicians when an imperial glare silenced him.
Meanwhile, Song Shihuan buried her face in the pillow to hide her smirk.
This wasn’t enough. The Empress Dowager deserved a grander "gift."
"If Grandmother is your mother, why treat you so?" she feigned innocence.
Song Yu snorted. "She’s no mother of mine."
A calculated sniffle. "No wonder. A real mother would ache for her child’s pain—like how I took Father’s beating."
"You dare bring that up again?"
Their continued banter faded from Emperor Yuanyou’s hearing.
White-hot fury demanded release.
The world dimmed at the edges as implications too terrible to examine took root.
Would a loving mother watch her child beaten without intervention?
Would eunuchs dare strike a prince so viciously without orders?
Ice flooded his veins.
One bell later, a calmer Emperor Yuanyou pulled a weeks-old memorial denouncing the Crown Prince from his desk. "Wu Qi. Summon him."
......
"Your son greets the Emperor."
No sooner had the Crown Prince knelt than the scroll struck his feet. "Read it! See your own treason!"
Pale already from the abrupt summons, the prince’s hands shook as he unrolled the paper. Cold sweat beaded his brow.
"Father, I swear I’ve never conspired! The banquet was merely because Xi Yan admired the peonies and wished to share them."
"You mobilized dozens of officials and their households to your country estate—for a child’s whim?"
Emperor Yuanyou’s laugh held knives. "Do you take me for a fool?"
The Crown Prince stammered. True, he’d used Song Xiyan’s comment to cultivate connections, but such maneuvers had always been tacitly permitted.
Why this sudden condemnation?
Before he could formulate defenses, guards forced him onto a punishment bench.
"Strike hard."
The emperor’s command carried generations of grievances—against the Eastern Palace’s neglect of Song Shihuan, against hidden manipulations.
The first crack of bamboo drew a scream. The pampered prince had never known such agony.
Yet Emperor Yuanyou’s gaze remained fixed on the palace gates.
He wondered—when the heir apparent suffered, how would the Empress react?
