"What's the matter with you?"
Inside the side chamber of the Hall of Preserving Harmony, Chaoyun County Mistress asked impatiently.
Zhaorong leaned against the Grand Princess, listless, and at her sister's words, she barely lifted her eyelids.
"I just think... maybe entering the palace wasn’t the right choice."
Chaoyun County Mistress’s eyes sharpened, about to retort, but the Grand Princess stopped her with a gentle tone. "Why do you say that, Rong’er?"
Zhaorong straightened slightly. "Mother, you saw it today—Concubine Shu’s beauty outshines everyone in the rear palace. How could I possibly compare?"
When she first entered the palace, Concubine Shu had just left her confinement after childbirth, and with the crown prince falling ill, she had looked haggard. Back then, Zhaorong had thought Concubine Shu was nothing special. But today, after spending hours preparing in the Hall of Benevolent Peace, convinced she would dazzle everyone, the moment Concubine Shu stepped inside, Zhaorong was struck speechless.
When even women acknowledge another’s beauty, it must be true.
"And... I’ve been in the palace for so long, yet His Majesty hasn’t even glanced my way..." At this, Zhaorong’s eyes reddened. At her age, sensitive and proud, being ignored was unbearable. The grievances of these past days welled up inside her.
She and Jiang Yuan were cousins in name, but with nearly a decade between them—by the time she was born, he was already skilled in horseback riding and archery. Moreover, the Grand Princess and the late emperor had never been close, so Zhaorong had rarely seen her imperial cousin.
Yet none of that stopped her from falling for him at first sight. Brilliant in both civil and martial arts, courageous and handsome—he was the most exalted man in the world. No one could compare to her imperial cousin. Even his deep respect for the Empress, in Zhaorong’s eyes, only proved his kindness and consideration.
Maybe one day, he’ll treat me just as well... That had been her dream before entering the palace.
But reality was nothing like she imagined.
Not only did His Majesty ignore her—he seemed to despise her!
Yes, though Zhaorong was proud and spoiled, she had the same sensitivity as any young woman. In their few interactions, she had sensed it clearly: the Emperor disliked her.
She didn’t understand why, but a gnawing fear told her that entering the palace might have been a mistake...
Faced with Zhaorong’s hesitation, the Grand Princess soothed her. "You’ve barely spent any time with His Majesty. How can you be sure he won’t grow fond of you? Concubine Shu is beautiful, yes, but a man’s affection isn’t solely about looks. Rong’er, you have your own strengths. Once His Majesty sees them, he’ll naturally come to cherish you."
Was that true? Zhaorong felt lost.
"Trust me, child. No one knows this palace better than I do." The Grand Princess’s voice turned distant. Counting from her father’s reign, this was her third dynasty. Neither her father nor her late brother, the previous emperor, had ever remained infatuated with beauty for long.
The consorts who survived to old age in the palace rarely relied on their looks alone.
Beauty fades. Gentleness, understanding, virtue—any of these were far more enduring.
"Rong’er, I would never lead you astray. And you needn’t compete with Concubine Shu. On the contrary, you should befriend her. If she supports you, your life in the palace will be much easier."
Befriend Concubine Shu?
Zhaorong instinctively looked at her sister. "Why?"
After everything that had happened with the Yuan Family, how could she possibly befriend Concubine Shu?
Noticing her gaze, Chaoyun County Mistress scoffed. "Now I truly wonder if letting you enter the palace was the right decision."
Wh-what did that mean?
Seeing her younger daughter’s confusion, the Grand Princess sighed. "Yun’er’s miscarriage... was merely a performance."
Zhaorong’s eyes widened. "What?"
"The Yuan Family’s influence has grown, and with Concubine Shu bearing the crown prince, His Majesty’s suspicion was inevitable. Rather than wait for his purge, we chose to sever a limb ourselves. The court is treacherous—your brother-in-law’s talents are mediocre. Who knows when he might stumble into a trap? Better to abandon his post now."
Sacrificing a son’s career for the sake of a tarnished reputation—though harsh, it would ease the Emperor’s mind.
And as long as Yuan Hao remained, once the crown prince rose to power, Yuan Zishi’s fortunes could be revived. He might even become an imperial uncle.
This had been arranged between the Yuan Family and the Residence of the Grand Princess. Even if no one had exposed Yuan Zishi’s "indiscretions" during the hunt, they would have staged it themselves.
Zhaorong stared at Chaoyun County Mistress’s stomach. "Then... your miscarriage was fake too?"
Chaoyun County Mistress shifted uncomfortably, a hand resting on her abdomen. "An ill omen, but necessary to win sympathy." The greater the scandal, the louder the censure against Yuan Hao—and the more at ease the Emperor would feel.
Zhaorong: "..." And here she had wept for nights over it.
She still didn’t understand. "But what does this have to do with me entering the palace?"
If the goal was to dispel the Emperor’s wariness, why send her in? Wouldn’t that backfire?
The Grand Princess fell silent at this. She didn’t know how to explain it to her youngest.
The Residence of the Grand Princess was not like the Yuan Family. Its prestige relied solely on her status as the Emperor’s aunt. Once the throne passed to another, their household would be no different from the destitute imperial clansmen in the Hall of Preserving Harmony.
The Yuan Family, however, stood on political merit. As long as Yuan Hao endured, and if the crown prince one day... their power would remain.
But what if the Yuan Family fell?
Who would protect the Residence of the Grand Princess then?
The bond between the two families rested solely on Yuan Zishi and Chaoyun’s marriage.
Such ties could be strong—or fragile.
The Residence of the Grand Princess needed its own plans. Sending Zhaorong into the palace was one of them.
These were things the Grand Princess couldn’t bring herself to say.
Her heart was heavy. Yuan Zishi’s affair had forced Zhaorong’s entry into the palace sooner than planned, leaving no time to properly instruct her. Zhaorong had pride but lacked the cunning needed to survive the inner court. She would suffer for it.
Now, the Grand Princess could only pray the Empress Dowager would lend some aid.
What the Grand Princess couldn’t bear to voice, Chaoyun County Mistress had no qualms stating outright. Arms crossed, she said bluntly, "Of course it matters. Mother only bore the two of us. We can’t sit for imperial exams or go to war. If we want to uphold the Residence of the Grand Princess’s standing, our marriages are the only currency we have. I married Yuan Zishi. For you, the palace is the only path."
"To be honest, if I weren’t already a married woman, it wouldn’t be your turn to enter the palace. From now on, I’ll just be the wife of a commoner, not even entitled to be called 'Madam,' while you’ll be addressed as 'Your Ladyship.' Zhaorong, you should be content."
Chaoyun County Mistress's words were painfully blunt, striking Zhaorong’s heart like a sharp blade, leaving her face pale in an instant.
Trading her marriage for the Grand Princess’s longevity? How was that fair? That was the first thought that flashed through Zhaorong’s mind.
But when she saw her mother, whose hair had begun to gray without her noticing, and her sister, now wearing the hairstyle of a married woman, Zhaorong found herself speechless.
Her sister had already done her part—what right did she have to refuse?
For the first time in her life, Zhaorong, the proud and carefree daughter of the Grand Princess, resented not being born a man.
In the Hall of Preserving Harmony, Qi Daiyu had long stopped eavesdropping, not even sparing a glance at Concubine Miao beside her. Instead, she was utterly engrossed in the palace dances, her eyes glued to the performance.
What an honor! What a privilege!
This was practically the national dance troupe performing just for her! And from such a close vantage point!
Her virtual screen’s recording function had been running nonstop, and Qi Daiyu sighed more than once—such precious footage, yet she could only enjoy it alone. If only she could share it online…
While Qi Daiyu watched the dancers twirl gracefully, the Emperor at the head of the hall happened to glance her way.
The New Year’s banquet dances were the same old routine every year, devoid of novelty, so Jiang Yuan’s attention wasn’t on them. Instead, he used the opportunity to observe the expressions of those in the hall.
Paranoia was a common affliction among emperors, and Jiang Yuan was no exception.
He often maintained an inscrutable demeanor while secretly studying the faces of his ministers and concubines, hoping to catch glimpses of their true natures when they thought no one was watching.
There was no fear of being noticed—he could scrutinize anyone, but not everyone dared to meet his gaze.
To Jiang Yuan, this observation was sometimes an amusing pastime, yielding unexpected discoveries.
For instance, he had just noticed the Earl of Tong’an, notorious for his domineering wife, swallowing hard as he stared at a dancer. A man with lust but no courage—perhaps useful in the future.
Or Prince Sheng’s Heir and Princess Yanping’s consort slipping out one after another, only to return separately a quarter-hour later, their behavior suspicious enough to warrant investigation.
And then there was a certain minor concubine, her eyes shining with rapt attention as she watched the performance.
Jiang Yuan’s gaze lingered, momentarily puzzled. Were these dances really so captivating?
Then it dawned on him—in previous years, Concubine Qi had only been able to hear faint echoes of the banquet from her distant quarters. This was her first time seeing it up close, so of course she’d be enthralled.
But was it necessary to be this absorbed?
He frowned.
To his side, Concubine Shu peeled a grape and offered it to him.
Meanwhile, Concubine Qi remained fixated on the dancers.
Across the hall, Concubine Miao blushed and raised a toast in his direction.
Meanwhile, Concubine Qi remained fixated on the dancers.
The banquet tables were laden with delicacies—his own, in particular, boasted the Empress’s braised goose, Concubine Shu’s shredded five-spice tripe, Consort Ning’s longevity noodles, Consort An’s glazed chicken breast, Noble Lady Qin’s peach resin wine soup, Concubine Miao’s eight-treasure duck, and Consort Cao’s red bean cake.
And from Concubine Qi?
Nothing but air.
Jiang Yuan narrowed his eyes at her table. Impressive—she’d cleaned her plates so thoroughly the kitchen staff would weep with gratitude if they saw them.
Not even a token dish for her Emperor?
Had she abandoned all pretense of courtesy now?!
Gritting his teeth, he summoned Quan Fuhai. "Take this plate of kumquats to Concubine Qi."
Quan Fuhai smiled. "These kumquats are freshly delivered, exceptionally sweet. Concubine Qi will surely enjoy them."
Jiang Yuan: "Mm. Tell her to peel every last one—then send them back to me."
"At once—...wait, what?" Quan Fuhai froze.
Reading the Emperor’s expression, he didn’t dare question further, carrying the kumquats to Qi Daiyu’s seat.
After relaying the Emperor’s demand, Quan Fuhai couldn’t bear to look at Concubine Qi’s face.
As expected, Qi Daiyu’s expression darkened instantly. She stared at the plate of kumquats in disbelief.
The Emperor wanted her—during the New Year’s banquet—to peel oranges for him. By hand.
What kind of bizarre whim was this?
Had he lost his mind?
