Qi Daiyu had been stealing glances at the Emperor, curious about his appearance since memories differed from reality. Moreover, the original owner of this body hadn’t seen the Emperor in three years, and the few memories she had were already hazy.
To be fair, Jiang Yuan wasn’t unattractive—one could even call him handsome. However, perhaps due to his heavy workload, he always seemed weary, giving off an air of exhaustion. His slender frame also made him appear somewhat… unimpressive.
In short, he wasn’t Qi Daiyu’s type of rugged, masculine man.
Still, the commanding presence of the Son of Heaven was undeniable. Even from a distance, his imperial aura was palpable, making it hard to meet his gaze directly.
But Qi Daiyu soon realized something delightful—the Emperor didn’t seem to like her much.
This discovery filled her with quiet joy.
It seemed her strategy was working. All she had to do was maintain the original owner’s persona in front of the Emperor.
Slowly, Qi Daiyu shuffled her way into the room.
Inside, Jiang Yuan was scrutinizing the layout of Yanqing Residence.
He preferred analyzing people through details. People were adept at putting on acts, especially in his presence, but details never lied. And in private spaces like bedchambers, details were abundant.
However… Jiang Yuan frowned slightly.
The arrangement of Yanqing Residence clearly bore the mark of palace maids. The palace’s attendants were rigorously trained, their adherence to protocol ingrained to the bone. While this was commendable, it also stifled individuality, making their decorative choices predictable at a glance.
Was Qi Daiyu merely a puppet, devoid of her own thoughts?
Or was she so timid that she couldn’t even control her own servants?
His gaze shifted to the study, and his brow relaxed slightly. There, a low table was cluttered with unidentified jars and bottles, along with half-ground flower paste. Though it disrupted the room’s tidiness, it felt undeniably vibrant.
"What are you working on here?" Jiang Yuan initiated the conversation.
Qi Daiyu hadn’t expected this. She’d deliberately left the mess untouched, hoping to leave a "disorderly" impression on the Emperor, only for him to interpret it as proof she was "alive."
"Your Majesty, this concubine was attempting to make some skincare balms and rouge. I’ve only just begun today," she replied.
"I see." These feminine trifles were beyond Jiang Yuan’s understanding—or interest.
The conversation stalled again.
Jiang Yuan moved to sit by the window couch, where his eyes landed on an unfinished cushion in the corner.
Unlike the usual palace designs, this one was enormous, shaped somewhat like a flower but hollow in the middle. The stem beneath was made of green silk, half-stuffed with cotton.
What an odd-looking thing.
Qi Daiyu followed his gaze and inwardly panicked—she’d forgotten to put it away.
This was her oversized hug pillow, designed like a sunflower with a hole in the middle—perfect for cuddling, resting her head, or draping over her legs while binge-watching dramas.
"The room is a bit untidy. Should this concubine have someone clean it up?" she offered.
Jiang Yuan waved a hand. "No need." He picked up the pillow, weighing it in his hands, then raised an eyebrow. "That doll for Yong’an—did you make it yourself?"
When he’d seen it in the Empress’s palace, he’d assumed Qi Daiyu had ordered her servants to craft it as a gift to curry favor—at most, the idea was hers. Such tactics were all too common in his experience.
But now, seeing this peculiar cushion, Jiang Yuan realized he’d misjudged. If a servant had made it, it wouldn’t have been left here unfinished.
Qi Daiyu blinked. "Yes, I did. Is there a problem?"
"At least there's some cleverness in it," he paused, "but it's too ugly."
Qi Daiyu: "..."
Are you even listening to yourself?
After a moment's thought, she realized the original owner of this body would have been deeply hurt by such words.
So Qi Daiyu secretly pinched herself, instantly reddening her eyes as she gazed at Jiang Yuan with a wounded expression.
"This concubine's craftsmanship is indeed lacking, offending Your Majesty's eyes. It is entirely my fault." Tears even began to fall.
A beauty shedding tears under lamplight should have been a breathtaking scene, yet Jiang Yuan merely frowned.
His patience wore thin.
"Prepare the bath," he said, walking toward the bedroom.
Huh?
Wait—prepare what?
Qi Daiyu was stunned. Since when did emperors follow such an unpredictable script?
She had assumed His Majesty would simply leave in annoyance, but instead, his irritation led directly to... sleeping with her?
Shiliu and the other maids had been waiting on standby. At the command of "prepare the bath," hot water was swiftly brought to the bathing chamber. Listening to the sound of splashing just beyond the wall, Qi Daiyu’s expression shifted rapidly.
Would it be too late to post on Zhihu now?
"Help! How to Politely Decline an Emperor’s Request for Bedding?"
Claim she was menstruating? But the imperial physician had just examined her today.
Say she had a stomachache? Shiliu was right beside her, watching with eager (or perhaps predatory) intensity.
Panic left her mind utterly blank.
The sound of water gradually ceased, replaced by the rustling of fabric.
Against her will, Qi Daiyu’s imagination conjured up unspeakable, censored scenes. Forgive her—in her past life, she’d only read about such things, never experienced them firsthand. She was embarrassingly innocent.
The more she thought, the faster her heart raced. The more nervous she grew, the wilder her thoughts spiraled, completely beyond her control...
When Jiang Yuan emerged, he found Consort Qi sitting at the edge of the bed, her face flushed, lashes trembling, chest rising and falling unevenly.
The rosy hue overpowered her usual pallor, softening her sickly demeanor with a touch of delicate charm.
This was far more pleasing to the eye.
To Jiang Yuan, the imperial harem—aside from the empress—served primarily as a means of relaxation. Burdened by the weight of state affairs daily, he sought only ease at night, whether through lighthearted conversation or more intimate pursuits. Both were valid methods of unwinding.
Thus, he rarely invested much thought into his consorts. At most, he favored those who amused him and ignored those who exhausted him.
That said, while intimacy was indeed for relaxation, he naturally preferred sharing it with women he found agreeable. Why subject himself to discomfort? He was the emperor, after all—why should he endure displeasure?
Earlier, before stepping into the bath, he hadn’t planned on touching Consort Qi.
Sleeping chastely under the covers? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done so before.
But now... he reconsidered.
Surely, every consort in the harem longed for his touch. The emperor, blissfully unaware of his own arrogance, mused to himself.
With this in mind, Jiang Yuan rested a hand on Qi Daiyu’s shoulder. "Let us retire."
The candles were extinguished, and Shiliu and the attendants withdrew beyond the chamber doors.
Shiliu’s face and neck burned crimson—not from embarrassment, but exhilaration. Her mind raced with visions of His Majesty and her mistress in tender harmony. Perhaps tonight, her lady would conceive the imperial heir! In ten months' time, the Yanqing Palace would welcome a little prince or princess. A boy or a girl? Either would be a blessing!
Beside her, Putao’s face was also flushed—but with anxiety.
This is bad. Please don’t let our lady anger His Majesty. If the emperor flew into a rage, she’d have to rush in immediately to shield her mistress, then send someone to fetch the empress for help. Who, though? Her eyes darted around the courtyard—Xiao Li! He was the fastest runner...
In fact, the atmosphere inside the room was completely different from what the two outside had imagined.
From the moment Jiang Yuan touched Qi Daiyu’s body, she stiffened entirely.
She became like a puppet on strings, letting Jiang Yuan carry her to the bed.
Her outer robe, inner garments, and underclothes were removed one by one…
When their bare skin pressed together, Qi Daiyu’s mind went blank. She was dazed, completely unaware of what she was doing or how she should react.
Then came the sharp pain beneath her.
She jolted awake.
Right now, the person intimately connected to her was a stranger—someone she had technically only met today!
They had no feelings for each other, yet they were about to engage in the most intimate act!
The piercing pain made Qi Daiyu break out in cold sweat. Instinctively, she recoiled and resisted, even forgetting propriety as she pushed Jiang Yuan away with her hands and feet.
Jiang Yuan wasn’t faring well either.
He couldn’t understand what was happening. Why was Consort Qi… like a virgin?
Frowning, he saw Qi Daiyu’s reddened eyes as she repeated, “No, I don’t want to! It hurts too much!”
Suddenly, the scene struck him as familiar.
He remembered—he had indeed never touched Consort Qi before.
Three years ago, when he was still in the Eastern Palace, Qi Daiyu had just entered the household as Lady Qi. The first night he visited her chambers…
She had been the same then, crying out in pain, so fragile it seemed she might faint if he pushed any further.
Jiang Yuan couldn’t bring himself to force her, so he stopped that night.
Later, after learning more about Lady Qi’s temperament, he found her unappealing. The second time he visited her chambers, he did nothing at all, simply sleeping there.
And now, three years later…
Watching Qi Daiyu’s tearful, fearful resistance, Jiang Yuan sighed inwardly.
Fine. Perhaps this woman and he simply had no fate.
Jiang Yuan stopped and straightened up, stepping off the bed. He lit a candle and began dressing to leave.
The moment he moved away, Qi Daiyu wrapped herself in the quilt, sobbing uncontrollably—whether from the pain or something else, she didn’t know. But when the candlelight flared, its glow stinging her eyes, she suddenly snapped back to reality.
What had she just done?
Blinking through her tears, she saw Jiang Yuan dressing to leave.
A jolt of panic shot through her. If the Emperor left now, she couldn’t even imagine the rumors that would spread through the palace tomorrow. She didn’t want to compete for favor, nor did she care about rank, but that didn’t mean she wanted to become the laughingstock of the entire harem!
“Don’t go!” In her desperation, the words burst from her lips.
Jiang Yuan froze mid-motion, turning to stare at her in disbelief, nearly laughing in exasperation.
“What did you say?” He could hardly believe those words had come from her.
Qi Daiyu no longer cared about maintaining her composure. “Your Majesty, you can’t leave. If you go, this concubine… this concubine…”
Tears streamed down her face.
Not the delicate, performative weeping of a coy woman, but the raw, heart-wrenching sobs of someone truly devastated.
Clutching the quilt, her dark hair cascading down, half of her pale shoulder exposed, she cried until her eyes and nose turned red. Yet her lips remained stubbornly pursed, as if she were the one who had been wronged.
Jiang Yuan got the distinct impression that if he left now, she might just cry herself to death.
Abandoning his robe, he sat back on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples.
Consort Qi had a point. He could well imagine the gossip that would spread if he walked out tonight.
Given this woman's usual temperament, she would likely have hanged herself after hearing those words, or else worked herself into another serious illness.
Medicine from the Imperial Hospital wasn’t free, and there was no need to waste it on such matters.
Jiang Yuan found himself a reason to stay.
"Enough, stop crying. I won’t leave," he said.
"Really?" Qi Daiyu couldn’t believe it and inched closer to confirm.
Unaware that her movement had exposed a glimpse of her bare skin.
Jiang Yuan replied, "Really."
He tossed the sleeping robe over Qi Daiyu’s head.
"Get dressed. Sleep." His tone was rigid.
Relieved that she wouldn’t have to die of embarrassment, Qi Daiyu brightened immediately. She swiftly pulled on her clothes, wiped her face clean with a handkerchief, and eagerly blew out the lamp, then generously surrendered most of the bed to him.
Once she closed her eyes, it suddenly dawned on her—wait, even if the process hadn’t gone as she’d imagined, her goal had still been achieved!
Qi Daiyu nearly laughed out loud.
The emotional rollercoaster left her mentally drained, and she fell asleep quickly, entirely unbothered by the presence of another person beside her.
As for Jiang Yuan, his breathing had been steady, and he was nearly asleep himself—until a leg suddenly draped over his waist.
He stared in disbelief at the woman sound asleep next to him.
Had Consort Qi always slept like this? Jiang Yuan tried to recall.
His memory was hazy.
But then he remembered—Qi Daiyu had been bedridden for over two years. Had her inability to move freely back then made her now compensate by seeking even greater freedom in her sleep?
Jiang Yuan found his reasoning perfectly logical.
Yet no matter how logical, such sleeping habits were hardly proper! What woman slept like this?
Suppressing his irritation, he moved Qi Daiyu’s leg back to her side.
But before long, not only did her leg return to his waist, but her upper body also pressed against him, clinging tightly.
In that moment, Jiang Yuan had an epiphany—he finally understood the purpose of that oversized bolster pillow.
Their warm skin pressed close, her body soft as if boneless, carrying a faint fragrance. His hand, forced to rest at her waist, could feel the warmth with just the slightest grasp.
Jiang Yuan was acutely aware of the change in his own body.
Gritting his teeth, he swore to himself—from now on, not even out of respect for the Empress would he ever set foot in Yanqing Palace again!
