After returning to the palace, Yu Miaohua distributed the small trinkets she had purchased among the palace maids.
Most palace servants could not leave the palace until they turned twenty-five, so they rarely had the chance to see items from the outside world. Naturally, they were delighted and amused by these novelties.
Yu Miaohua considered asking her system to note down Shen Sushang’s birthday so she could gift him a set of writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone when the day came. Since they now belonged to the same sect, exchanging gifts during festivals wouldn’t raise eyebrows—no one would dare gossip about such a harmless gesture.
"Your Majesty, look!"
Hong Xing excitedly held up a small clay figurine. "Your Majesty, doesn’t this resemble you?"
Yu Miaohua took the figurine and examined it. Indeed, its expression and features bore a striking resemblance to her.
"Who made this? It’s quite charming."
She had also bought a few clay figurines during her outing, but none were as refined or made of such high-quality material.
Before Hong Xing could answer, the system chimed in.
[Host, this was handcrafted by Pei Yuheng. He practiced many times to perfect it—his dedication to you is truly touching! Aren’t you moved, Host?]
Hong Xing explained, "A palace maid gave it to me. Earlier, she was punished by the overseer and made to kneel under the sun for three hours. I happened to pass by and felt pity for her, so I spoke a few words on her behalf. To express her gratitude, she gifted me this figurine. It needs to dry in a cool, shaded place for ten days to harden properly."
She didn’t mention that the maid had crafted it herself—Hong Xing lacked such skills, and the lie would be easily exposed.
Yu Miaohua understood. Pei Yuheng had discreetly passed the figurine through a maid to Hong Xing, who then delivered it to her.
[System, there’s nothing hidden inside this, right? Like a love letter or some kind of drug?]
[Host, don’t be so suspicious! Our poor young master simply wanted to give you a heartfelt gift. See how he didn’t even leave his name, afraid you might reject it? He’s like a pitiful, adorable puppy in the rain.]
Yu Miaohua never expected to be called "suspicious" by her own system. Speechless, she toyed with the figurine for a moment before instructing Hong Xing, "Place it in the side hall. We’ll check on it in ten days."
She could always pretend to accidentally break it later—no point keeping something like this when there was no reward involved.
Though she had to admit Pei Yuheng had good taste, that didn’t mean she was willing to develop any further relationship with him.
After a full day outside, exhaustion crept in. She yawned, quickly washed up, and retired early.
Acquiring corn as soon as possible was a priority.
Without hesitation, Yu Miaohua claimed her reward.
Three days later, Zhang Changying entered the palace holding an opened jade box. She had woken up to find it unlocked on its own.
This marked the first time a woman attended the morning court, yet no one dared question her right to be there.
Inside the jade box were two rewards—penicillin and corn.
The court officials were astir.
While penicillin was valuable, the accompanying note made it clear that Great Qi lacked the means to produce it yet. Pei Lingyue promptly stored it away for the time being. Their focus shifted entirely to the corn.
Though the box contained some corn seeds, they were insufficient to plant even half an acre. To distribute them nationwide would take years of cultivation. The best solution was to retrieve a larger batch directly from its place of origin.
Pei Lingyue immediately seized the map, his brow furrowing. "The corn’s homeland is quite distant. We’ll need a large ship to reach it."
Fortunately, Yu Miaohua had previously claimed shipbuilding technology and compass designs. The royal shipyard had spent months constructing seafaring vessels based on those blueprints, set to launch before the emperor’s birthday.
Holding the map, he marveled at its precision—every route meticulously detailed. It only deepened his awe for the divine power behind such gifts.
Earlier, his men had already located several iron mines using another map—one of which was in Fengzhou.
The Prince of Feng would likely receive the news soon.
Pei Lingyue felt a surge of relief. Thankfully, the Prince of Feng had barely begun mining the iron ore to avoid drawing attention, leaving little time to forge weapons.
With his birthday just a month away, he could now use that iron to produce curved and straight plowshares, selling or lending them to farmers at low cost.
Despite months of promotion, most commoners still couldn’t afford these tools, missing out on their benefits.
The crown prince had recently submitted a proposal: the government should manufacture a batch and distribute them across regions, allowing peasants to rent them for a single coin per three days.
Pei Lingyue approved the idea. A trial run in the capital’s outskirts had already garnered positive feedback.
Jiang Xunxin eagerly volunteered, "Your Majesty, I am willing to retrieve the corn for you."
Pei Lingyue waved a hand. "This task requires someone skilled in naval warfare."
The sea posed dangers beyond waves—pirates lurked as well. Previously, Great Qi’s ships were no match for them. But with the new, faster vessels, the tides might turn. Pei Lingyue had already ordered the formation of a naval force.
He smiled. "There will be plenty of opportunities for you to prove your worth in the future."
Since Jiang Xunxin could also see the system’s messages, Pei Lingyue trusted him more readily.
Jiang Xunxin’s face radiated confidence. He resolved to hone his seafaring skills.
Meanwhile, the Prince of Feng, Pei Lingyou, watched the court’s fervor over corn with a shadowed expression.
Pei Lingyue’s luck was infuriating. With cotton and now corn, his popularity among the people would soar like an unstoppable sunrise.
In contrast, Pei Lingyou’s reputation had nearly crumbled after his New Year’s slander against Consort Hui. Though he had salvaged some goodwill by commissioning poems in her honor, doubts lingered—how could a prince who misjudged people so badly be trusted to appoint capable officials?
The gap between him and Pei Lingyue widened daily, all because of Consort Hui.
Pei Lingyou suspected the emperor had guessed something. Why else would he burden his son with endless assignments, as if to keep him occupied?
To make matters worse, one of the officials he had painstakingly bribed was recently demoted after being exposed for an affair with his sister-in-law—wasting years of effort and silver.
Distracted, he barely registered the court’s adjournment.
Back at his estate, Pei Lingyou sipped tea brewed by a maid. Compared to the past, its aroma was richer, its clarity unmatched.
This tea, delivered by the Imperial Household Department, was among the first batches processed with the new roasting technique.
Tea leaves, white sugar, rock sugar, distilled liquor... These goods would continue to pour into the imperial treasury like a mountain of silver. The people were well-fed and clothed, the national coffers were full... Under such circumstances, Pei Lingyue's position would only grow more unshakable.
Pei Lingyou had once overheard commoners sincerely remark that the late empress's only wise decision in her lifetime was choosing the right heir. This backhanded compliment had left him seething with fury.
He took a deep breath, struggling to calm the resentment in his chest.
Before Pei Lingyou could finish his cup of tea, his chief steward hurried in, holding a letter. "Your Highness, a message has arrived from Fengzhou."
Pei Lingyou immediately noticed the black envelope. Different envelope colors indicated the urgency of the matter—black being the highest.
A sense of foreboding gripped him. He tore open the letter and skimmed the contents, his face paling instantly.
The chief steward cautiously asked, "Your Highness, what happened in Fengzhou?"
Pei Lingyou gave a bitter smile. "The iron mine has been discovered by local officials. The Fengzhou governor has already submitted a memorial to the emperor."
The steward's face turned ashen, his body swaying slightly. A feudal prince concealing the existence of an iron mine—if the emperor chose to escalate the matter, he could easily accuse Pei Lingyou of treason.
"How could this have been exposed?" The steward couldn't fathom where they had slipped up. In his eyes, the prince had been exceedingly cautious, barely mining the ore. If they had known it would be discovered so soon, they might as well have extracted a large batch for use.
Pei Lingyou's voice was laced with venom. "Some damned peasant secretly mined the ore to forge plowshares and even gave some to his relatives. A jealous neighbor reported him to the authorities, and they traced it back to the mine."
The steward was speechless. He had assumed the emperor's intelligence network was all-knowing, but the truth was absurd—rendering all their past caution a joke. Who would have thought they would be undone by a lowly peasant they had scorned?
"Your Highness, what should we do now?"
Without the iron mine and lacking popular support, Pei Lingyou knew his path to the throne was slipping away. If he wanted to preserve his life, he would have to bow to the emperor and cut his losses. Yet, after years of ambition, he couldn't bear to surrender so easily.
With this incident, the emperor would only grow more wary of Feng Prefecture's royal household.
Where was the future for Feng Prefecture's royal family?
The steward was deeply troubled. He had once been a beggar—had Pei Lingyou not saved him, he would have remained worthless mud. Now, he was the esteemed chief steward of a prince's household, and his loyalty to Pei Lingyou was absolute.
"Your Highness, before the news reaches the capital, you must secretly send the young master away."
Pei Lingyou had more than just Pei Yuheng as a son, though none were as brilliant or handsome as him, and thus less favored.
His youngest son, three years old, was born to a concubine.
The steward reasoned that the heir, Pei Yuheng, was already held hostage in the palace, his every move under the emperor's watch. Sending him away was impossible, so they had to settle for the youngest son.
Pei Lingyou resisted the idea—even if his youngest survived, his descendants would never be able to openly claim their lineage. They would have to live in hiding, stripped of their identity. What was the point?
Muttering about his heirs, Pei Lingyou suddenly froze, a fervent gleam entering his eyes.
No—there was still hope!
If his son could win over Noble Consort Hui and father a child with her, the emperor might even depose the crown prince in favor of her child. With Noble Consort Hui's influence, the throne could eventually pass to Feng Prefecture's bloodline.
After all, Noble Consort Hui still had no children—clearly, the emperor was at fault. His son was undoubtedly superior!
Pei Lingyou took a deep breath. "I will go to the palace and plead for forgiveness."
For this future, he was willing to temporarily humble himself before Pei Lingyue.
...
Two hours later, Pei Lingyou emerged from the palace—no longer the Prince of Feng, but the Marquis of Feng.
His status had plummeted.
Pei Lingyou had confessed to the emperor that his steward had discovered the iron mine and concealed it for personal gain. He claimed ignorance until now and begged for mercy, admitting only to negligence as the master.
Additionally, he confessed to accidentally damaging a portrait of the late emperor in his household, showing disrespect.
The emperor, already informed of the Fengzhou incident, did not pursue total annihilation. Instead, he demoted Pei Lingyou to marquis, confining him to the capital for three years without imperial permission.
As a marquis, his guard was reduced from three thousand to a mere two hundred, and most of his fiefdom's privileges were revoked—leaving him a declawed tiger.
To the world, Pei Lingyou no longer had the means to rebel.
Yet, the emperor had spared his life.
As he left the palace, Pei Lingyou glanced back at its majestic grandeur, his expression complex.
Had he been emperor, he would never have passed up the chance to eradicate the threat entirely.
Officials aligned with Pei Lingyou breathed a sigh of relief. They had sensed his ambition but knew the emperor's position was unshakable. They had no desire to follow him into madness.
It was for the best that the prince had come to his senses and abandoned his treasonous schemes.
Upon learning of his father's demotion, Pei Yuheng requested imperial permission to visit him.
The former princely residence now bore the plaque of a marquis's manor, its extravagant furnishings removed.
When Pei Yuheng returned to the palace later, his expression was dazed.
His father's spirits were better than expected. He urged him to impress Noble Consort Hui and win her heart—so that one day, their bloodline might claim the throne.
Pei Yuheng could only think to himself: Father has far too much faith in me.
He hadn't even held Noble Consort Hui's hand yet. Though he lived in the palace, he couldn't freely roam the inner quarters, limited mostly to the imperial gardens. Noble Consort Hui rarely ventured out, making chance encounters impossible.
Nearly half a year had passed with no progress.
His only achievement was sending her a clay figurine through an intermediary—and acquiring one of her embroidered pouches, which had cost him fifty thousand taels for three.
"Your Highness, perhaps we should resort to... unconventional methods? Such as administering a certain drug? I happen to have some that might prove useful—"
A trusted aide suggested drugging her. Pei Lingyou's face darkened, and he kicked the man hard enough to send him stumbling back onto the ground.
"Speak of such vile tactics again, and I'll have your head," Pei Yuheng said coldly.
He disdained such underhanded methods. More than possessing her body, he wanted to win her heart—to make her truly love him.
Pei Yuheng turned back toward the prince's residence, where a palace attendant presented him with a gift list.
"Your Highness, these are the congratulatory gifts procured for the Longevity Festival. Would you like to review and make any additions or reductions?"
The eighteenth of June marked Pei Lingyue's birthday, designated as the Longevity Festival—one of the three grandest celebrations in Great Qi.
Last year, due to natural disasters, Pei Lingyue had waived the festivities. But this year, being his fortieth birthday, it couldn’t be avoided—especially since foreign envoys would also present their tributes.
Envoys from Fan Country, the Grasslands, and Liang Country had already arrived in the capital days earlier, lodging at the Honglu Guesthouse. The remaining nations would arrive throughout the month.
Given the emperor’s leniency toward their princely estate, they couldn’t afford to offer anything less than a proper tribute.
Pei Yuheng examined the list, noting that due to the milestone birthday, the gifts were thirty percent more lavish than usual.
After a moment’s thought, he said, "Add a gold basin with lotus and algae motifs, and a jade-carved bonsai of a parrot holding grapes... Also, retrieve that pair of white jade twin lotus hairpins and the enamel peony hairpins from my treasury and include them."
Given Consort Hui’s favored status, the emperor would undoubtedly gift her the finest items from his own tributes. These hairpins, specially crafted by Pei Yuheng, would likely end up in her hands.
While Pei Yuheng prepared his gifts, Yu Miaohua was also organizing her own offerings.
"Your Grace, perhaps you could embroider a few pouches yourself?" Cuiwei suggested.
Yu Miaohua hesitated—her embroidery skills were decidedly average. Did she really want to present something like that?
She doubted the emperor lacked pouches. He struck her as a pragmatic man; she’d never seen him wear any gifted by concubines, except perhaps to humor the empress.
She rummaged through her treasury.
Truthfully, the emperor had been exceedingly generous to her, showering her with treasures and publicly shielding her from criticism.
But the gifts she’d prepared... were all items bestowed upon her by the emperor, the empress dowager, and others. While valuable, they lacked personal sentiment.
"Never mind, I won’t send these!"
An idea struck her—as a divine maiden, how could she offer such mundane things?
Nowadays, Yu Miaohua carried a bit of divine dignity.
"Put these away."
She stepped into the courtyard, her gaze settling on the Champa rice.
The rice was nearly ripe, just in time for the Longevity Festival. This would be her first tribute.
Truthfully, the Champa rice—capable of yielding two harvests a year—had already drawn attention from visitors to her estate. But Yu Miaohua still held another card: the map.
[Host has triggered Main Quest 3.8: On the day of the Longevity Festival, give Pei Lingyue a grand surprise and make him publicly declare you as his most beloved. Reward: Optimized Champa Rice Cultivation Technique.]
[This technique will enable three harvests per year with higher yields. Go forth, Host! Strive to become the emperor’s undisputed favorite—you must be recorded in history as the recipient of his blatant favoritism!]
Yu Miaohua, who had been perfectly composed, nearly cringed at the sight of this new task.
She was confident her gift would surprise the emperor, but the quest demanded she make him proclaim his love for her—in front of the entire court and foreign envoys.
Help me.
Just imagining the scene made her want to dig her toes into the ground and scream.
[System, can’t you assign me normal tasks for once?]
[Host, I’m innocent! I don’t control your quests.]
"Your Grace, are you unwell?" Qingluo asked, noticing Yu Miaohua’s pallor.
Yu Miaohua forced a weak smile. "It’s nothing. The sun is just a bit too strong. Let’s go inside."
She considered rejecting the task, but the reward... made refusal difficult.
Fine. She’d just have to swallow her pride and offer a subtle declaration in public. If the emperor responded, the quest might complete itself.
If it failed... well, that would mean the emperor didn’t love her enough. His fault, not hers.
Being someone who refused to dwell on stress, Yu Miaohua consoled herself and resolved to do her best—then leave the rest to fate.
Pei Lingyue soon learned of Yu Miaohua’s new quest—the divine system often discussed it with her.
And if Pei Lingyue knew, so did the empress dowager, the empress, and the ministers.
Pei Lingyue paced. "What do you think Consort Hui will prepare for me?"
"I suspect the Champa rice will be one of them."
If only she could gift him an auspicious omen—just one! He wasn’t greedy.
Jiang Kangyou remarked, "Your Majesty, you’ll find out soon enough."
A technique for cultivating Champa rice with three harvests a year... The reward was practically tailor-made for them.
And the task wasn’t even difficult—just a public confession.
Jiang Kangyou glanced at the empress, who sat serenely, seemingly unbothered. Thankfully, Her Majesty could see the truth. Even if the emperor declared his love for Consort Hui, she wouldn’t take offense.
In fact, the empress appeared to be listening attentively but was already lost in thought.
If only her birthday could trigger a similar quest. A mere declaration was nothing—she adored Consort Hui just as much as the emperor did, if not more sincerely.
When the emperor first ascended the throne, her birthday had been celebrated annually. Later, to cut costs, she proposed scaling back celebrations to only milestone years. Next year would be her fortieth.
Suddenly, the empress remembered something. "Your Majesty, the Marquis of Wulie will arrive in the capital in a few days. I was thinking... perhaps he should meet Consort Hui beforehand?"
The Marquis of Wulie was the empress’s maternal uncle. She had been raised in his household and held deeper affection for his family than her own. Her upbringing under Lady Shen, her aunt, had shaped her character.
The empress trusted her uncle’s judgment—she doubted he’d fail to recognize Yu Miaohua’s divine nature.
Better to prepare him now than risk a scene during the celebrations.
Pei Lingyue brightened. "You’re right. That’s a wise suggestion."
For his milestone birthday, even regional officials of the fourth rank and above were required to attend.
It was time for the third-rank ministers to meet Consort Hui.
He’d see who among them still harbored doubts.
Honestly, Consort Hui was an excellent litmus test—she’d already helped him uncover several traitors.
Yuan Xinji and the other ministers guessed the emperor’s intentions—he wasn’t even trying to hide them.
They couldn’t help but pity Consort Hui. The emperor was truly wringing every possible use out of her.
...
The arrival of the Marquis of Wulie drew widespread attention.
Everyone knew the empress’s true backing wasn’t the Qinhou Estate—it was the Marquis of Wulie.
The Marquis of Wulie was unparalleled in loyalty and bravery, his military achievements illustrious, and his prestige shook the court. His marquisate was even hereditary.
On his first day in the capital, the Marquis of Wulie first paid his respects to the emperor. After leaving the palace, observant individuals noticed his dazed expression.
Rumors spread that the Marquis of Wulie had seen the much-favored Consort Hui in the Qianyuan Palace.
Upon receiving this news, Concubine Xian, who had been recuperating from illness, suddenly perked up. "Is this true?"
"The emperor actually allowed the Marquis of Wulie to meet Consort Hui? What is he thinking?"
Wasn’t this deliberately provoking the Marquis?
Her palace maid added, "The Marquis even nearly fell off his horse—such was the shock he received."
Concubine Xian smirked. The emperor must have feared that the Marquis would disrespect Consort Hui, so he deliberately flaunted his favor for her in this manner.
For the sake of a concubine, he was willing to humiliate a general who had rendered outstanding service—truly, the emperor had lost his mind.
But this only made things easier for her.
The empress and the Marquis of Wulie were close. She refused to believe the empress harbored no resentment.
Concubine Xian had secluded herself for months, self-imposing confinement. Now that her health had mostly recovered, it was time for her to re-emerge and enjoy the spectacle.
She asked her confidante, "Are the rice preparations complete?"
To regain the emperor’s favor, she had put great thought into his birthday gift.
She had instructed her son to seek out a hundred long-lived individuals and collect rice from them. This "rice of a hundred families," symbolizing her son’s filial piety, would surely stand out among the usual mundane gifts.
The Qiongming Palace had lain dormant for too long. If they remained low-key any longer, they would be forgotten.
Meanwhile, before the Marquis of Wulie could return to his own residence, the steward of the Qin Marquis’s household personally came to deliver a message: "My lord, the Marquis wishes to see you."
Lu Lingyun, the Marquis of Wulie, didn’t know what to make of his brother-in-law.
If his sister was openly foolish and malicious, then her husband was sly in his methods. He didn’t believe his sister’s actions escaped her husband’s notice—he merely played the victim, feigning ignorance while allowing her misdeeds.
Some even pitied him, claiming he was dragged down by his wife and youngest daughter.
Such a man needed to be put in his place, taught a lesson so he would never dare scheme again.
Lu Lingyun narrowed his eyes slightly. "Wait a moment."
He first returned to his residence to change out of his military court attire into more casual robes.
His wife, Lady Shen, seemed somewhat distracted.
Taking the warm towel she handed him, Lu Lingyun wiped his face, feeling some of his fatigue fade.
While he had been in the palace meeting the emperor, his wife had also paid her respects to the empress.
Lu Lingyun asked with concern, "Did anything happen with Her Majesty?"
Lady Shen snapped out of her thoughts. "Her Majesty looked well, seemingly untroubled."
Lu Lingyun had initially worried about his niece’s situation, given Consort Hui’s overwhelming reputation—even he, stationed at the border, had heard of her.
But after seeing Consort Hui in person, he instantly understood why she was so favored and no longer worried.
Consort Hui’s favor was only natural.
"That’s good. I’ll visit Her Majesty again soon."
As a favored general and the empress’s uncle, the emperor would grant him this privilege.
"First, I’ll go see what my brother-in-law has to say."
Lu Lingyun’s previously gentle gaze sharpened.
Lady Shen smiled. "Very well, I’ll wait for your return."
Once her husband returned, she would discuss the empress with him.
During her visit to the palace, she had inquired about the empress’s circumstances.
Though everyone praised Consort Hui as kind-hearted, gentle, and innocent, Lady Shen remained uncertain without meeting her in person.
With such a favored consort in the harem, the empress must be under immense pressure.
Yet when she brought up Consort Hui, the empress had nothing but praise.
Her expression softened with genuine affection as she spoke of Consort Hui.
In contrast, her tone when mentioning the emperor was respectful but calm—a stark difference from her warmth toward Consort Hui.
Having raised her niece, Lady Shen could easily distinguish between polite words and heartfelt sincerity.
The empress had gone out of her way to extol Consort Hui’s virtues, likely to prevent her from being misled by rumors and forming a biased opinion.
The empress knew Consort Hui’s preferences intimately, even keeping a set of her favorite tableware in her palace.
After being inundated with details about Consort Hui, Lady Shen suspected the empress cared more for her than for the emperor himself.
Having lived with her husband in the more liberal border regions, Lady Shen had even witnessed women pledging themselves to each other as spouses.
A thought crossed her mind: Could it be that her niece, the empress, had fallen for Consort Hui?
The allure of Consort Hui was truly terrifying!
——
Pushing my friend’s new novel! This friend is quite reliable—a writing buddy who spurs me on daily!
Title: The Heroine Who Fears No Evil
Author: Ru Ren
Work ID: 8914503
The newly hired at the Earthly Affairs Office of the Underworld was a nepotism hire.
Rumor had it that Zhong Xiaoci, raised by her grandmother—a Meishan shaman—had never formally studied talismans or spells.
To make her quit, the Judgment Department assigned her a daunting task.
The next day, Zhong Xiaoci returned unharmed, dragging along a withered, pitiful-looking female ghost, limp as frostbitten cabbage.
The ghost wept bitterly, clearly traumatized by the night’s horrors.
Zhong Xiaoci: "She’s lying! I only did to her what she did to me."
The ghost blew chilling breath at her, so Zhong Xiaoci returned the favor—with living breath.
Another day, another mission.
Zhong Xiaoci came back with a male ghost, his stomach torn open, so frail he seemed ready to dissipate in the wind.
The ghost wailed miserably, another victim of unspeakable torment.
Her colleague gasped: "What did you do this time?!"
Zhong Xiaoci: "I swear, I just spat at him because he disgusted me."
Yet another day.
Her colleague stared blankly at yet another ghost—now shrunk to the size of a three-year-old—and asked wearily, "Alright, what did you do now?"
Zhong Xiaoci: "Nothing much. Just shined a light on him and treated him to a ‘concert.’"
The ghost, forced to endure blinding light and an endless chorus of rooster crows, shed silent tears of suffering.
——
Others fight ghosts with peachwood swords, binding talismans, and Bagua mirrors—honing their skills through diligent practice.
Zhong Xiaoci fights ghosts by breathing fire, spitting venom, and shining light—terrifying them with sheer audacity, proving she’s more fearsome than any specter.
Later on, word spread throughout the ghostly circles: the Underworld's Yang World Liaison Office had a formidable figure named Zhong Xiaoci—don’t you dare cross her, and if you see her, run for your life!
