Perhaps noticing Qi Daiyu’s despondent expression, Jiang Yuan added, "Tomorrow, I’ll have Quan Fuhai send you a few painting manuals. Practice copying them for a while, and your skills should improve. Your paintings show creativity—just take your time to learn."
Hmph. Qi Daiyu sneered inwardly but put on a grateful face. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
After having the paintings put away, Jiang Yuan asked, "Aside from painting, what else can you do?"
Qi Daiyu shook her head. "I’m ashamed to admit I have no particular talents."
Well-bred ladies mastered various arts under specialized tutelage, but the original owner of this body came from a modest family—how could they afford tutors? So, skills like music, chess, calligraphy, or painting were beyond her, and she wasn’t worried about being exposed.
Jiang Yuan fell silent for a few seconds. "Your needlework is passable… never mind."
He had intended to compliment her embroidery, but recalling the stuffed doll she’d made for the eldest princess and the decorative pillows in Yanqing Residence, while they showed creativity, the actual stitching… any palace maid could outdo her.
Jiang Yuan suddenly chuckled. "You truly have the luck of the privileged."
"Huh?" Qi Daiyu was puzzled.
Born into a humble family yet mediocre at needlework—she must have been doted on growing up. Though lacking any remarkable skills, she’d still managed to climb high as an imperial consort, living a life of luxury with servants at her beck and call. Wasn’t that the definition of a privileged fate?
Jiang Yuan didn’t explain. He stood and headed toward the inner chamber. "In that case, let’s retire early."
Qi Daiyu stiffened. Retire?
She dawdled, unwilling to follow, her mind racing for an excuse. What reason could she use to refuse tonight? Blame it on this emperor who never acted predictably—she hadn’t anticipated his visit to Yanqing Residence today and was utterly unprepared. Excuses like "monthly courses" or "allergies" wouldn’t work now.
"My lady?"
If she delayed any longer, even Shiliu would notice her unease.
Reluctantly, Qi Daiyu entered the inner chamber, only to find Jiang Yuan already changed into sleepwear and reclining on the bed.
Qi Daiyu: "…Your Majesty, won’t you freshen up?"
Jiang Yuan: "Quan Fuhai was careless today and spilled tea on my sleeve. I’ve already washed up before coming." He watched her standing frozen. "Aren’t you sleeping?"
Qi Daiyu shuffled forward. Shiliu followed, helping her remove hairpins and change into nightclothes.
During the process, Qi Daiyu noticed the man lounging against the headboard, watching with undisguised interest, making no effort to look away or close his eyes.
Of course. In his mind, aside from the Empress Dowager, every woman in the rear palace was his possession. Why should he bother with propriety?
Suppressing her embarrassment, Qi Daiyu maintained composure as she changed.
In truth, she was overthinking it. Jiang Yuan had no intention of touching her tonight.
His visit to Yanqing Residence had one primary purpose: to confirm his suspicions. Their earlier interactions had already convinced him that Qi Daiyu was hiding something.
With his goal achieved, all that remained was time to uncover why Consort Qi displayed such duality.
So, he genuinely planned to sleep.
But when Qi Daiyu climbed onto the bed, bringing them unbearably close, a faint, elusive fragrance drifted toward him. Jiang Yuan’s gaze darkened.
"What scent are you wearing?"
"Ah? Ah!"
Jiang Yuan lay on the outer side of the bed, forcing Qi Daiyu to climb over him to reach the inner side. Midway, hovering above him, his sudden question startled her. Her arms gave way, and she collapsed onto him.
"Mm—" Jiang Yuan grunted, one arm swiftly wrapping around her waist to create distance.
Regaining her senses, Qi Daiyu pushed herself up. "It’s a nourishing cream I made myself." The refined fragrance of her homemade face cream was light and pleasant, never cloying.
Her flushed cheeks softened Jiang Yuan’s irritation. Up close, he noticed her skin—pale as snow, smooth as jade.
"Your Majesty?" Qi Daiyu tried to pull away but found his grip unyielding, his hand around her waist firm and scorching.
Jiang Yuan snapped out of his thoughts. What was he doing?
He despised women like Consort Qi—how could he feel desire for her?
He released her at once.
Freed, Qi Daiyu lay flat beside him, pressing a hand to her racing heart as she steadied her breathing. That had been terrifying.
She’d nearly been charged with "attempting to harm the imperial person."
Stealing a cautious glance at Jiang Yuan’s stony, unreadable expression, her anxiety spiked.
Would she lose her life tonight?
"In the future, stop troubling the craftsmen of the Inner Workshop."
Jiang Yuan’s sudden remark startled her, but its content confused her. "Why?"
The man scoffed. "The Inner Workshop supplies porcelain and wooden furnishings for the entire rear palace. Having skilled artisans waste time making trinkets for you is like using a prized sword to chop vegetables."
Qi Daiyu’s lips pursed. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t paid them! Her merchandise—
But then, unexpectedly, Jiang Yuan relented. "If you’re truly fond of such things, have the eunuch in your palace learn the craft. From now on, make them yourself within Yanqing Residence."
Her eyes lit up. She’d considered this before, but the palace’s master craftsmen rarely shared their skills. Sending someone to ask would’ve earned her nothing but scoldings. But with the emperor’s decree, everything changed.
Unable to suppress her delight, she beamed. "Thank you, Your Majesty! Tomorrow, I’ll send Little Cheng to learn. Once he masters it, we’ll never trouble the craftsmen again."
Her voice brimmed with a cheerfulness she didn’t even realize.
Jiang Yuan felt no pride in indulging her—such trivial favors were routine for him. What caught his attention was something else. "Are all your servants named after fruits?"
Shiliu (Pomegranate), Putao (Grape), even a eunuch called Little Cheng (Orange).
Qi Daiyu: "Shiliu and Putao were assigned by the Imperial Household Department when I first entered the palace—those were their original names. The others, I renamed to match. Though there are two maids for cleaning, Xiaozhuo and Xiaohuan—not fruit names." A lineup of fruits was lovely, easy to remember.
How vulgar. Even naming servants so tastelessly.
Just as he thought—this woman was utterly common. How could he possibly desire someone like her? Jiang Yuan convinced himself.
"Mm. Sleep."
Just like that?
Qi Daiyu blinked in surprise, then relief, realizing Jiang Yuan truly had no intention of touching her.
She couldn’t fathom it—what had he come for, then?
Just to watch her paint and mock her a little?
Too exhausted to overthink her act, Qi Daiyu drifted to sleep, still puzzling over his motives.
In the darkness, their breathing gradually evened out. Sometime later, a grunt tore from Jiang Yuan’s throat as he slept soundly.
His eyes flew open, half-expecting an assassin—only to find the source of pain was his abdomen, now crushed under a stray leg.
Jiang Yuan: "…"
He pressed a hand over his eyes. He must have lost his mind. To satisfy his curiosity, he’d chosen Yanqing Residence—only to forget how catastrophically this woman slept.
A peaceful night indeed.
The Emperor left early again this morning, his expression as sour as ever.
Qi Daiyu strongly suspected His Majesty suffered from severe morning grumpiness.
After finishing breakfast and freshening up, Qi Daiyu instructed Little Cheng to report to the Imperial Workshop today before heading to Kunning Palace in high spirits to pay her respects to the Empress.
"Good fortune brings radiance—Consort Qi, you look positively glowing today," Consort Cao, who had arrived earlier, greeted her with a curtsy and a smile.
As soon as these words were spoken, Qi Daiyu keenly sensed a sharp gaze land on her.
It was Concubine Miao.
"Good fortune? They say life’s four greatest joys are rain after drought, meeting an old friend in a distant land, the wedding night, and success in the imperial exams. Which one applies to Consort Qi?" she asked, her tone laced with sarcasm.
None of these "four joys" truly fit Qi Daiyu. The only one remotely relevant—the wedding night—was something she dared not claim. After all, in the harem, the only one entitled to a wedding night with the Emperor was the Empress.
"Concubine Miao, must you even ask? Clearly, Consort Qi’s joy is rain after drought," Consort An interjected, having arrived unnoticed. Her voice carried a suggestive lilt, though her stiff expression made the teasing remark sound even more mocking.
The other consorts, all well-versed in such matters, covered their mouths to stifle giggles.
Having read countless books, Qi Daiyu understood instantly. But she knew Consort An wasn’t defending her—as a follower of Concubine Shu, her true intent was to mock.
After years of illness, Qi Daiyu had only just recovered, yet she had already served the Emperor twice this month. Wasn’t that indeed rain after drought?
The Qi Daiyu of the past might have been mortified.
But times had changed.
With a faint smile, she replied, "Sisters, you all seem to have filled out lately. Are you preparing for winter by putting on extra layers?"
The smiles of the onlookers froze.
Concubine Miao even reached up in disbelief to touch her face—had she gained weight?
If not for being in Kunning Palace, she would have demanded a mirror on the spot.
Consort An and the others didn’t look pleased either.
Lately, hotpot had become a trend in the palace. The concubines, eager to replicate Noble Lady Qin’s secret broth recipe, had been eating it almost every meal. All that oily, meat-heavy fare had inevitably left them a little rounder.
Seeing each other daily, they hadn’t noticed.
But Qi Daiyu treated these morning greetings like a social feed, and scrolling through her mental "posts," she’d spotted the pattern—her "sisters" had all put on weight!
So she’d fired back.
Now, no one paid Qi Daiyu any mind. Instead, they fidgeted, pinching their waists or touching their faces, their attention wandering even after the Empress arrived.
That is, until the Empress announced, "The date for the autumn hunt has been set—ten days from now. The excursion will last five days. To lighten the travel burden, each of you may bring two maids, one eunuch, and one trunk of belongings. No more."
The autumn hunt!
The consorts stiffened. Their riding outfits, tailored to their previous measurements, were designed to accentuate their figures—cinched tightly at the waist and legs. With their newfound plumpness, those outfits wouldn’t fit!
No—they had to lose weight!
