For Pei Lingyue, among his brothers, only Prince Zhao was somewhat tolerable—the rest were nothing but burdens. The most insufferable of them all was Pei Yuheng, the heir of Prince Feng’s household. Like his father, he was a troublemaker. Barely a few days after arriving in the capital, he had already hosted poetry gatherings and funded numerous impoverished scholars, all to curry favor. Hah! Such petty gestures to win hearts could never compare to the Crown Prince’s vision.
Not long ago, the Crown Prince, Pei Chiyan, had submitted a proposal to build libraries across the land, allowing scholars access to books—a true boon for scholars nationwide. The first batch of books printed using movable clay type could be stored in these libraries. Combined with the newly developed, more affordable paper, the trivial favors of Prince Feng’s household paled in comparison when it came to winning public support.
This thought lifted Pei Lingyue’s spirits slightly.
Still, his mood didn’t change the fact that he found these burdensome brothers utterly detestable.
If forced to choose, as long as it wasn’t someone from Prince Feng’s household, the situation wouldn’t be the worst.
He very much wished to secure the rewards from all three potential conquests—he wasn’t about to give up even a single one.
Strolling leisurely to the seat of honor, Pei Lingyue sat down and surveyed the room before summarizing the past year’s political achievements. With subtle self-praise, he highlighted how, under his wise leadership, Great Qi had weathered natural disasters, and the people’s lives were flourishing more than ever.
Below, Yu Miaohua’s mind began to wander.
[System, how long do you think the Emperor’s speech will last? I’m having flashbacks to my high school principal—every time he got on stage, it was always “Just two more points,” and then fifteen minutes would fly by…]
[I doubt it’ll wrap up in less than an hour. Host, don’t you want to watch that drama? Are you really skipping “XX Chronicles”?]
[I’ll binge it after I pass out! There’ll be plenty of time for dramas then.]
Just as Pei Lingyue was about to say, “I have one last thing to add,” he caught sight of the words floating above Yu Miaohua’s head. His eyelid twitched, and he abruptly changed his closing remark: “May the new year bring you all peace, health, and prosperity.”
Crown Prince Pei Chiyan shifted slightly in surprise—his father had actually shortened his New Year’s address. Originally, it would have dragged on for another half-hour.
Yu Miaohua only felt relief. Finally, it was over.
The performances began.
Unlike previous banquets, this New Year’s feast featured mostly operas, all newly rehearsed by the imperial music bureau over the past few months. Yu Miaohua had worried they’d be the usual clichéd tales of scholars and beauties, but to her surprise, the plays were quite engaging. The melodies were exquisite, of course, but more impressively, the plots were riveting—full of twists and turns that effortlessly drew the audience into the characters’ joys and sorrows.
Each story revolved around salt merchant families, specifically the legendary Four Great Salt Merchant Clans.
The first play told of childhood sweethearts. The male lead, a brilliant scholar who had topped the local exams, caught the eye of the Su Family’s young mistress. But unlike the unfaithful Chen Shimei, he steadfastly refused her advances, determined to become a provincial scholar and marry his beloved.
The female lead waited at home, saving money through embroidery while anticipating his return. Yet all she received was news of his death—in a brothel, no less, his reputation ruined. Meanwhile, the Su Family’s eldest son passed the provincial exams and even purchased an official post as a county magistrate.
Refusing to believe her love could be so dishonorable, the female lead investigated and, with help, uncovered the truth: the Su Family had bribed the examiners to swap their son’s paper with the male lead’s, stealing his success. Fearing exposure, they had him killed and framed him posthumously.
The play ended with the female lead appealing to an imperial inspector, culminating in the Su Family’s residence being surrounded by officials.
The second story followed the Li Family patriarch, who took in a beautiful concubine. She, basking in his favor, grew increasingly domineering, throwing the household into chaos. Skilled in seduction, she bewitched the patriarch to the point of neglecting his wife and children.
The wife, ever virtuous, clung to hope of reforming her husband. But the concubine was cunning—she framed the wife for adultery and manipulated the patriarch into believing his own son lusted after her, leading to the son being beaten and exiled.
Yu Miaohua had braced for a clichéd ending where the patriarch would discover the concubine’s true nature, cast her out, and reconcile with his family. Instead, a twist arrived: the patriarch, still enthralled, planned to elevate the concubine to wife status. On their wedding night, she poisoned him.
It turned out she was the daughter of the patriarch’s old friend. To seize the friend’s wealth, the patriarch had orchestrated the family’s massacre—only the daughter, raised in a temple, survived. Disguised, she had entered the Li household for vengeance.
The play concluded with her presenting the Li Family’s illicit salt trade records to the imperial inspector.
...
In every opera, the salt merchants were the villains, and each ended with an imperial inspector’s intervention.
Consort De remarked to Yu Miaohua mid-performance, “These salt merchants are truly wicked. I hope the inspectors punish them justly.” She seemed to forget these were fictional tales.
Yu Miaohua nodded. “They’ll definitely be executed. Probably didn’t want to show beheadings during New Year celebrations, so it stops at confiscating their property.”
Consort Xian interjected, “These plays are rather biased. They paint all salt merchants as evil, which is misleading. Just as there are bad ones, there are also good ones—like the Zhang Family of Tongzhou, known for funding roads and charity. Their reputation is impeccable.”
One of her father’s illegitimate daughters had married into the Zhang Family. Though Consort Xian disdained this sister, she had still gifted a jade ruyi at the wedding—after all, the Zhangs were generous benefactors. Officially, the sister was presented as an adopted daughter of the Qin Family.
This connection made Consort Xian uneasy watching the plays, as if the Su Family’s portrayal hinted at the Zhangs.
Yu Miaohua mused to her system:
[System, is the Emperor planning to crack down on salt merchants? Why else would the imperial music bureau stage so many plays targeting them? Not that I’m complaining—these are great. More, please.]
[Won’t this tip them off, though?]
Yu Miaohua scanned the room. Unlike previous years, where only officials of the fourth rank and above were invited, this banquet included all sixth-rank officials and higher in the capital.
Her heart raced.
[System, doesn’t this feel like a trap?]
[Are they making arrests today?]
"Host, are you scared? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you."
"Oh, I don’t think there’s anything to fear. His Majesty and the others must have prepared everything. We just need to sit back and enjoy the show. Ugh, they should’ve served melon seeds at this banquet. Watching a drama without them feels like something’s missing."
When the Empress turned her head, she happened to catch this thought.
After a moment’s consideration, she quietly whispered a few words to Aunt Fang.
Soon after, Aunt Fang personally brought a plate of shelled melon seeds to Yu Miaohua before discreetly retreating.
"Wow! I was just craving melon seeds, and Her Majesty the Empress sent them over! She’s so thoughtful—it’s like we share the same mind!"
Empress Dowager: The Empress moves quickly.
Emperor Pei Lingyue: "…"
Sometimes, having an overly gentle and considerate Empress wasn’t ideal—it made it too easy for her to outshine him.
Though Yu Miaohua usually seemed a bit silly, she was surprisingly sharp in this regard.
While the play on stage was captivating, not everyone was fully engrossed. Both Yu Miaohua and the Empress were the focus of many gazes.
When the Empress specifically sent someone to deliver something to Yu Miaohua, the other concubines barely reacted—they were already used to it. Though many speculated that the Empress and Consort Hui were merely putting on a harmonious front, what they witnessed was the Empress consistently showing kindness to Consort Hui. And now, with the Noble Consort added to the mix, it felt like they were being completely overshadowed.
The ministers, however, were deeply pleased. A virtuous Empress who got along with the favored consorts was a blessing for Great Qi.
Though shelled melon seeds lacked the fun of cracking them open, Yu Miaohua couldn’t very well bite into them in public. She nibbled quietly while continuing to watch the play.
The next act was even more scandalous—a love story between a man and woman of vastly different statuses, who later discovered they were half-siblings, exposing years of family secrets. Despite the murmurs of "scandalous" from those around her, Yu Miaohua noticed everyone was far more engrossed than before.
In the end, the male lead, who knew too much and was rebellious by nature, was silenced by his family. The female lead sought out the imperial inspector, accusing the family of smuggling weapons to the grasslands.
Yu Miaohua: "…"
"System, these scripts really give the imperial inspector a lot of spotlight. I see it now—the inspector is the hidden male lead!"
Just as this thought crossed her mind, a loud clatter rang out.
Yu Miaohua instinctively turned—it was Shi Chuan, the Vice Minister of Personnel, who had dropped his wine cup.
Shi Chuan immediately begged for forgiveness, his voice trembling. "This lowly official has disgraced himself before His Majesty. I beg for mercy."
Pei Lingyue’s gaze settled on him, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Minister Shi, which crime should I punish you for? The crime of impropriety before the throne? Or the crimes of selling official positions, accepting bribes… or perhaps conspiring to sell salt and weapons to the grasslands? You and your accomplices have truly overstepped."
Shi Chuan’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees, kowtowing frantically until blood stained the floor.
The play halted abruptly, and the hall fell silent.
Only then did they realize—these performances had been carefully chosen by the Emperor for a select audience.
Pei Lingyue spoke calmly. "Guards, seize the following: Imperial Censor Fang Shenyi, Vice Minister of Personnel Shi Chuan, Ministry of War official Yuan Pei, Duke Cai, Marquis Suyi, Prefect Sun Yunhe…"
He listed seventeen names in total.
Before the accused could protest, they were dragged away by the guards. Their families were also taken into custody.
The entire affair took less than fifteen minutes, leaving several seats empty. The ruthless efficiency left everyone stunned.
Princess Consort Yong paled and opened her mouth to speak, but Prince Yong swiftly silenced her with a handkerchief before knocking her unconscious. "Your Majesty," he said, "my wife is unwell. I shall escort her home."
Everyone pretended not to notice his actions.
Pei Lingyue nodded. "Since the Princess Consort is ill, she should rest more and avoid outings in the future."
Even Consort Xian near Yu Miaohua couldn’t maintain her usual gentle smile—the Marquis Suyi had been the Zhang family’s patron, and now the Zhangs were finished.
The Emperor had kept his plans tightly concealed. She could only pray this wouldn’t drag Chi Yao or herself into it. If only her father hadn’t adopted that sister of hers—now they were all tainted by association.
Pei Lingyue smiled lightly. "Enough. Let’s not allow these traitors to ruin our New Year’s celebration. The show will continue."
Yu Miaohua marveled inwardly: The Emperor had clearly been waiting for this banquet to strike.
"Ugh, the mood is ruined. Today doesn’t seem like the right time for me to shine."
But if she missed this chance, she wouldn’t have such a grand audience again. How annoying.
"Host, don’t give up so easily! The banquet isn’t over—we’ll find our moment!"
As the system spoke, a new play began.
This one told the story of a concubine surnamed Du, framed by her fellow townsfolk and sent to the cold palace, only to be vindicated by divine favor and rise through the ranks.
The moment Yu Miaohua saw "cold palace," she nearly had a visceral reaction.
When the protagonist was promoted for discovering a cold-resistant crop, she wanted to dig her toes into the floor.
Aaaaah! Did they think changing the surname would hide that this was about her?!
Who dared write her into this?!
As the side characters praised the heroine’s compassion, benevolence, and selflessness, Yu Miaohua felt like she needed oxygen.
Even if this was meant to flatter her, she couldn’t feel anything but mortified. The version of her on stage was painted with the kind of flawless perfection only the dead possessed.
"Save me! Who wrote this script?! I’ll pay to have them assassinated!!! Ugh, I curse them—may they eat without chopsticks and relieve themselves without paper!"
"Tears… They won’t think I commissioned this, right? I didn’t! I’m innocent!"
The Empress coughed violently—even her curses sounded childish.
The Noble Consort remarked, "Oh? Isn’t this about Sister Consort Hui?"
For the first time, Yu Miaohua regretted the Noble Consort’s blunt honesty.
She forced a weak smile. "How could it be me? Look, her surname is Du, mine is Yu."
Absolutely not admitting it. This was public humiliation.
"But—"
"No buts!"
Those ten minutes felt like torture. Under the weight of countless hidden stares, she understood what it meant to feel "pierced by needles."
"Your Majesty, is this about the legendary Consort Hui?"
A clear, youthful voice rang out. Yu Miaohua gritted her teeth—oh, so you’re the clever one, huh?
Jerk!
She focused her gaze and realized the speaker was Pei Yuheng, the heir of Prince Feng's household.
Yu Miaohua silently took note of this grudge.
[I hereby declare that this heir is officially the person I hate the most today!]
Pei Lingyue's lips curled slightly. "Indeed, it was Consort Hui. I ordered it to be written." He had been engrossed in watching the play earlier and hadn't noticed Yu Miaohua's sarcastic remarks about it.
Yu Miaohua mused gloomily in her heart.
[The Emperor is just as detestable.]
Pei Lingyue's heart tightened: Wait, why is Consort Hui still upset?
Pei Yuheng sensed Consort Hui's gaze drifting vaguely in his direction. He sighed inwardly but continued, "This subject has heard that Consort Hui once moved the Buddha himself to bless her, demonstrating boundless divine power. Today, I have brought along a highly skilled Daoist master, Qingsongzi. Might we witness Consort Hui's abilities?"
[Damn, Host! Isn’t this a perfect opportunity handed to you on a silver platter? This Prince Feng heir is actually a good guy!]
Yu Miaohua was moved.
[He really is a good guy!]
She had been worrying about lacking a chance to showcase her divine prowess, and here he was, delivering it right to her doorstep—even striking the perfect pose for a humiliating defeat. It would be a crime not to slap him down now.
Xue Bin, the Grand Academician and a secret admirer of Consort Hui, could no longer stay seated.
"This heir's actions are utterly absurd. Consort Hui’s divine blessings are not some frivolous game for your amusement. Preposterous!"
Qingsongzi, the Daoist master brought by Pei Yuheng, stroked his long beard and said, "Though this humble Daoist is untalented, I do possess some ability to discern truth. I see no trace of divine protection upon Her Highness. I cannot bear to watch esteemed officials be deceived, so I shall demonstrate a small trick."
The next moment, he pulled out a talisman from his sleeve. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, the paper silently burst into flames.
This display did indeed awe most of the crowd.
Even so, most officials still sided with Consort Hui—after all, the divine radiance that had once bathed her was no illusion.
Qingsongzi turned to Yu Miaohua. "Does Consort Hui have anything to say? What divine arts can Your Highness perform?"
Yu Miaohua’s lips twitched. "Master Daoist, are you planning to follow this up with turning stones to gold, swallowing swords, spitting fire, or making talismans change color?"
[I thought he’d bring out something truly impressive. But this?]
[If the Prince Feng household fell for this, they must not be very bright either.]
The Emperor believed in her because she had provided tangible benefits. If it were just cheap tricks like these, the Emperor wouldn’t have given her the time of day.
"Coincidentally, I’ve read about such things before. If these are just tricks meant to deceive the ignorant, I could easily replicate them myself."
Pei Yuheng felt personally insulted.
"For example, spontaneous combustion is simple—just coat the talisman with phosphorus beforehand, and it will ignite upon contact with air. Master Qingsongzi probably refined this phosphorus from flint, didn’t he?"
Though Qingsongzi didn’t know what "phosphorus" was, Yu Miaohua was right—the substance smeared on the talisman had indeed been refined from flint.
A seasoned fraud, he remained outwardly calm. "This humble Daoist has no idea what Your Highness is referring to. The talisman burned through my spiritual power alone."
Yu Miaohua despised such charlatans. She said coolly, "Even the legendary art of turning stone to gold can be replicated with proper preparation—just Daoist alchemical techniques. Once you understand the method, anyone can learn it."
She paused, then flashed a radiant smile. "It seems the so-called ‘master’ in Prince Feng’s heir’s eyes is quite easy to become. Since that’s the case, this unworthy one shall play the role of a ‘master’ today."
"Cuiwei."
Yu Miaohua called to her maid, who bowed respectfully. "Your Highness, this servant is here."
Yu Miaohua whispered something in her ear.
Cuiwei looked puzzled but obediently complied.
The entire hall watched Yu Miaohua, curious about her next move.
Now that the moment had arrived, Yu Miaohua was perfectly composed—even leisurely snacking on melon seeds.
The Empress ordered, "Bring Consort Hui another plate of melon seeds."
Since she could witness Yu Miaohua’s divine communications, the Empress knew she intended to reveal the earthquake prophecy publicly today.
But how exactly she planned to do so remained unclear.
She was surprised, however, by Yu Miaohua’s unexpected familiarity with these fraudulent tricks—and her dismissive attitude toward them.
The play onstage had long since stopped.
The assembled officials and noblewomen all agreed… while the play was decent, the real drama was unfolding right before them.
Fifteen minutes later, Cuiwei returned. "Your Highness, everything is ready."
Yu Miaohua nodded. "I shall take my leave briefly."
When she reappeared, she held a blank sheet of paper, while Cuiwei followed with a basin of water.
She unfolded the paper for all to see.
The crowd looked bewildered.
The Second Princess, more familiar with Yu Miaohua, asked brightly, "Your Highness, isn’t this just a blank sheet?"
Yu Miaohua smiled. "I wrote a question on it."
The Second Princess was even more confused. "But we can’t see anything!"
Yu Miaohua’s grin widened. "Which is why I’ll now perform a trick for you."
She placed the paper into the water. Under everyone’s gaze, crimson characters slowly emerged on the once-blank sheet.
Noble Consort Yuan Huirou couldn’t help reading aloud:
"Given: Master Qingsongzi is a fraud.
Question: What does that make Pei Yuheng, the Prince Feng heir who was fooled by him?
A) A fool
B) A big fool
C) A colossal fool
D) All of the above."
Noble Consort Yuan couldn’t hold back a giggle.
She wasn’t alone—many others stifled laughter. They had assumed Consort Hui was the epitome of grace and elegance, never expecting such playful mischief. Only now did they remember: this Consort Hui was still a teenage girl.
Had she not clarified this was merely a trick, they might have mistaken it for divine magic.
Some ministers, however, noticed the strange symbols she’d used to separate the text—they looked oddly convenient.
Pei Yuheng’s face flushed crimson in an instant: he had genuinely been fooled by Qingsongzi’s trick before.
Back then, Qingsongzi had tossed a blank paper into water, revealing the words: Prince Feng is ordained by Heaven.
He and his father had been so stirred they nearly rebelled on the spot, convinced it was divine will.
And it was all a scam?!
Prince Feng, who had remained silent until now, could no longer restrain himself. He stepped forward and slapped Qingsongzi. "Tie this fraudster up!"
He shot Qingsongzi a warning glance, signaling he’d protect him—lest the Daoist spill forbidden secrets in public.
Qingsongzi’s lip bled from the strike, but he dared not protest. He’d never expected Consort Hui to see through his tricks—otherwise, he’d never have entered the palace. Now, all his dreams of wealth and status were ashes. His only hope was that Prince Feng would spare his life in recognition of his cooperation… at least he’d helped the prince locate that iron mine.
Prince Feng knelt down, his voice trembling with remorse. "This foolish brother was deceived and wronged Consort Hui, showing her disrespect. I deserve death."
Pei Yuheng also dropped to his knees in apology.
His gaze involuntarily drifted toward Consort Hui—though the distance was too great to discern her expression clearly, he imagined her standing there, cold and regal, like a goddess descended from the heavens.
Though anger simmered within him at being publicly chastised by her, a sliver of admiration had also taken root in the depths of his heart.
Pei Lingyue regarded him with icy detachment. "It seems to Us that your accusations are not directed at Consort Hui, but rather at Us for 'deceiving the world with falsehoods.'"
Prince Feng hastily replied, "This brother would never dare imply such a thing. I only feared Your Majesty might be misled."
Yu Miaohua spoke softly, "This matter cannot be blamed entirely on Prince Feng. It is true that I possess no mastery of divine arts."
She paused, then continued, "I am merely blessed by heaven to glimpse fragments of fate unseen by ordinary eyes."
"For the past year, I have been deeply grateful for the kindness shown to me by the Empress Dowager, Your Majesty, and the Empress. I have no means to repay such grace, nor do I wish for Your Majesty and Her Highness to be misunderstood because of me. Thus, I am willing to sacrifice a portion of my own lifespan to divine the heavens once more for your sake."
She dipped into a graceful curtsy.
Though the Empress knew these words had been prearranged, she couldn’t help but be moved. The prophecy might be false, but Consort Hui’s genuine affection for her was not.
Even now, she made sure to include the Empress, ensuring the court witnessed their bond, lest anyone misjudge the Empress’s character.
The emotionally overwhelmed Empress Dowager’s eyes welled with tears—Miaohua, this child, remains so thoughtful.
As for the Emperor, his feelings were more complicated. Yu Miaohua never failed to remember the Empress Dowager and the Empress, leaving him to console himself: At least this time, I was mentioned too.
Anticipating the divine spectacle to come, the Emperor resolved not to miss it again.
He descended the steps himself. "Consort Hui, there is no need for such extremes. You must preserve your health—do not squander your lifespan."
Yu Miaohua blinked slowly. "I cannot bear to hear of tragedies like last year’s, nor witness our people displaced and suffering."
[System, prepare!]
The system instantly applied a golden-eye visual effect to her.
Consort De, standing closest to her, gasped. "Consort Hui’s eyes—they’ve turned gold!"
Under the stunned gazes of the court, Yu Miaohua’s dark irises shimmered into a radiant gold, all warmth and emotion drained from them, as though she had shed her humanity in an instant.
Her gaze fixed on empty air.
"Lizhou will suffer an earthquake on the seventeenth day of the third month." Her voice, once gentle, now rang hollow and devoid of feeling.
Though her words were soft, they carried with unnatural clarity to every corner of the hall, as though whispered directly into each person’s ear.
The prophecy sent shockwaves through the assembly.
What? Lizhou—an earthquake?
This—this was a true divination! No one doubted its authenticity. The seventeenth was merely two months away. A favored consort had no reason to spin a lie that would soon unravel and ruin her reputation.
None had imagined Consort Hui wielded such profound power!
How many lives might this prophecy save? And how many times could such an ability be used?
No sooner had the thought crossed their minds than a trickle of crimson spilled from the corner of Yu Miaohua’s lips. The stark red against her porcelain skin lent her an eerie, otherworldly beauty.
Then, her eyes.
She clenched them shut, but blood seeped through regardless, streaking down her cheeks like tears.
A violent cough wracked her body, and she vomited blood in great heaving spurts, staining her robes a vivid scarlet.
As she swayed, on the verge of collapse, the Noble Consort lunged forward and caught her. "Consort Hui! Quickly—summon the imperial physicians! Someone, help!"
Her hands were drenched in warm blood, the metallic tang so thick it made her dizzy.
She had never seen anyone bleed so much.
Would Consort Hui even survive this?
Damn Prince Feng—this is all his fault! If he hadn’t challenged the Emperor and pushed Consort Hui to this, she wouldn’t have had to go so far. She’s always been so afraid of pain. How much must she be suffering now?
The Emperor, momentarily stunned by the sudden gore, lagged a step behind.
The Noble Consort’s reflexes are annoyingly sharp. And now she’s taken the best position!
A deathly silence gripped the hall. Every witness stood frozen, awestruck by the scene before them. Only now did they truly grasp the gravity of Consort Hui’s words—she really did sacrifice her lifespan.
If anything happened to her…
The hearts of nearly all present twisted in dread.
Many prayed silently: Please, let Consort Hui be spared.
Among them, Wang Yaning wept openly.
Yu Weihua, Yu Miaohua’s father, clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened, tears brimming in his eyes.
For once, husband and wife shared the same plea: If a price must be paid, take our lives instead. Why must it fall upon our daughter?
Imperial Physician Zhang approached with trepidation, his face paling at the sight of so much blood.
He pressed his fingers to her wrist—then despair flashed across his features.
"Consort Hui… has no pulse."
