Looking at Concubine Qi’s appearance before him, Jiang Yuan felt the urge to turn around and leave.
But he was, after all, a man of propriety. To actually walk away would be too disrespectful to Concubine Qi. The still-young emperor had not yet reached the point of acting entirely as he pleased.
Still, it made his teeth ache.
After holding back repeatedly, even as he reached the entrance of Yanqing Residence, Jiang Yuan couldn’t resist asking, “Aren’t you cold?”
He recalled that Concubine Qi’s health wasn’t particularly robust. By mid-September, the capital had already entered autumn, and a few days prior, there had been a spell of autumn rain. Neglecting one’s health at such a time was an open invitation to catching a chill.
Knowing her own frail condition, why would she dress so lightly? Was it to catch his attention?
Jiang Yuan’s thoughts ran deep. He had seen many tactics employed by concubines vying for favor, and he naturally assumed Qi Daiyu was no different—deliberately wearing thin clothing to accentuate her graceful figure, and perhaps even inviting his pity, killing multiple birds with one stone.
If that were the case, Concubine Qi was sorely mistaken. Not only did he despise such antics, but even if he were indifferent, he wouldn’t feel the slightest pity for a concubine who had left little impression on him. Concubine Shu or Concubine Miao might have had some success with this ploy, but certainly not her.
With this in mind, his tone turned sharp. “We heard the Empress even summoned Doctor Xia to examine you. Is this how you treat your own health?”
Success!
Qi Daiyu’s eyes brightened as she kept her head lowered. The emperor indeed disliked her “type.” Confident now in her deduction, she felt a sudden clarity about her future strategy.
But she wasn’t foolish enough to provoke him outright—after all, her goal was to avoid favor, not court death. Mastering the delicate balance of displeasing the emperor without crossing into outright disgust was a skill she needed to hone.
Now, hearing the irritation in his voice, she couldn’t push the “frail beauty” act further. It was time to shift the topic.
So, Qi Daiyu secretly pinched her thigh. The next moment, her eyes reddened. “The Empress’s kindness to this concubine is something I will never forget. It’s just… it’s just that I…”
She timidly raised her gaze, eyes brimming with endless affection and grievance.
What was Concubine Qi’s persona?
Fragility and unrequited longing for the emperor.
With the emperor finally visiting, wasn’t it natural for Concubine Qi to go to great lengths to adorn herself? But having had so few interactions with him, it was only reasonable that she might misjudge his preferences, hence this “miscalculation.”
Qi Daiyu bit her lower lip. “If Your Majesty dislikes this concubine’s attire, I shall change at once. Only, please do not let anger harm your health…”
Jiang Yuan narrowed his eyes.
That sense of dissonance returned.
The adoring look in Concubine Qi’s eyes now was a far cry from her demeanor when they had crossed paths outside Yanqing Residence.
Why would she avoid him in the presence of the Empress and Noble Lady Qin, yet behave like this here?
How intriguing.
Unbeknownst to Qi Daiyu, her inconsistent persona—both in private and in public—had not only aroused the emperor’s suspicion but also piqued his interest.
Jiang Yuan wanted to know: What was this woman up to?
Was she hiding something, or was she simply cunning beyond measure?
If the former, he wanted to uncover her secrets. If the latter, with such scheming tactics and deliberate closeness to the Empress and Noble Lady Qin…
A cold glint flashed in Jiang Yuan’s eyes.
“Enough. Rise,” he said, though countless thoughts had raced through his mind in mere seconds.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Qi Daiyu straightened up, exhaling quietly in relief as she watched the emperor survey her chambers.
Compared to his last visit, Yanqing Residence’s decor had undergone subtle changes.
Previously, aside from the assortment of bottles and jars in the study and that oddly shaped oversized pillow, the rest of the furnishings bore the unmistakable touch of palace maids—utterly unremarkable. This time, however, Jiang Yuan noticed more bottles and jars in the study, along with several peculiar little ceramic figurines lining the large bookshelf.
On the low couch, inside a sewing box, lay a black, indistinct lump of fabric.
“What is this?” Jiang Yuan asked.
Qi Daiyu: “…Just a little trinket I made to pass the time.”
It was her black, coal-like wool felt project—something she worked on while binge-watching dramas.
“What’s its purpose?”
Qi Daiyu: “…Decorative?”
This was decorative? Jiang Yuan frowned, disdainful of her taste, then pointed at the figurines on the bookshelf. “And those? Also for decoration? Who made them?”
Qi Daiyu followed his gaze—her ceramic renditions of Doraemon, SpongeBob, Patrick Star, Luo Xiaohei…
Why hadn’t Shiliu put these away?!
Qi Daiyu flushed with embarrassment. “This concubine drew the designs and had the palace craftsmen fire them. Then I painted them myself.”
Lately, while catching up on anime, she had missed her merchandise dearly. Since online shopping wasn’t an option here, she had sketched replicas and sent Putao to the craftsmen’s office to have them made. These few tiny figurines had cost her two taels of silver!
At first, she’d balked at the price, but upon seeing the finished products, she felt it was worth every penny. The craftsmen had managed to recreate those adorable characters from her crude doodles—proof of their exceptional skill.
Hearing that Qi Daiyu had drawn the designs herself, Jiang Yuan’s frown deepened. To his aesthetic sensibilities, these figurines held no appeal, but their whimsical designs did reveal a surprisingly imaginative mind.
A thought struck him. “You practice painting?”
Qi Daiyu hastily waved her hands. “This concubine’s skills are barely rudimentary.” She truly couldn’t paint—well, not in the traditional sense. Stick figures and cartoons were her forte.
But the current trend was ink wash and classical landscapes, neither of which aligned with her abilities.
“Paint something for Us,” Jiang Yuan commanded, seizing the opportunity to learn more about her.
The emperor’s tone brooked no refusal. Qi Daiyu had no choice but to brace herself and step forward.
“What should I paint?”
Jiang Yuan glanced out the window, where a “Jade Spring” vase sat on the sill. “That vase.”
Painting wasn’t a quick task, so Jiang Yuan didn’t linger by the desk. Instead, he pulled a book from the shelf.
Opening it, he found a collection of ancient beauty recipes.
Uninterested, he replaced it and picked another—more cosmetic formulas.
“…”
Was this all the woman read?
Jiang Yuan’s expression darkened.
While he didn’t demand his concubines be scholarly, he couldn’t abide such utter lack of intellectual curiosity!
He continued browsing Qi Daiyu’s bookshelf until, at last, he found something different.
The Historical Records of Zhao—a chronicle of major events, policies, and notable figures from the founding of the Zhao dynasty up to his grandfather’s reign. Compiled by the court historians, it was an official record.
The Historical Records of Zhao was updated with each reign. From Jiang Yuan’s rule onward, the court historians had begun documenting his father’s era. And when the next emperor ascended, they would record Jiang Yuan’s own reign.
The book Qi Daiyu was holding was the latest edition, and judging by the official seal on it, it must have been borrowed from Zhaoren Hall.
At least she reads history—not entirely hopeless, Jiang Yuan thought to himself.
While Jiang Yuan was reading, Qi Daiyu stood by the desk, practically scratching her head in frustration.
She really couldn’t paint!
Was she supposed to draw a cartoonish "Jade Pot Spring"?
It wasn’t about being afraid of embarrassment—it was just… downright humiliating!
She had her pride, after all. The mere thought of "Concubine Qi’s 'astonishingly exquisite' masterpiece" spreading beyond these walls made her want to dig a hole so deep it could bury the entire Dazhao Palace.
Her hand holding the brush trembled slightly, and with that tremor, a drop of ink splattered onto the paper.
Qi Daiyu: "…" This was getting worse.
The spreading ink stain stood out starkly on the paper. Gritting her teeth, Qi Daiyu decided that if skill failed her, she’d rely on creativity.
She used the ink blot as the center of a chrysanthemum’s pistil, then sketched a few curved strokes around it, forming the rough outline of petals.
The flower itself didn’t matter much—Qi Daiyu finished it quickly and shifted her attention to the lower left corner of the chrysanthemum.
Among her cartoon drawings, animals were her strongest suit. After all, animal cartoons were the most popular with children and easiest to teach.
Whether on cards or blackboard newspapers, she had drawn plenty of little dogs, cats, and the like.
But using a brush for this? That was a first. Still, it shouldn’t be too different.
About the time it took for an incense stick to burn, Qi Daiyu finally let out a long exhale.
"Finished?" Hearing the sound, Jiang Yuan set down his book and approached the desk.
"Let me see."
Qi Daiyu stepped aside obediently. "Your Majesty mustn’t laugh at this concubine’s poor attempt." The nervousness in her voice was unmistakable.
Her reaction only piqued Jiang Yuan’s curiosity further.
He picked up the painting.
"…"
Silence. A long, heavy silence.
Beneath the indistinct flower, a strangely shaped black kitten lay on its back, stretching lazily with its belly exposed.
To be fair, ignoring the questionable chrysanthemum, the kitten—though odd-looking—had a certain charm to it, even appearing somewhat lifelike in its playfulness.
As for the kitten’s peculiar form, Jiang Yuan glanced back at the ceramic figurines on display. Perhaps Concubine Qi simply had a taste for this style?
After what felt like an eternity, Jiang Yuan set the painting down. "Not bad."
Huh? Qi Daiyu looked up in surprise, meeting Jiang Yuan’s gaze directly.
"You weren’t lying. It truly doesn’t even scratch the surface of proper technique."
Qi Daiyu: "…"
