After enjoying a lavish lunch of eight dishes and two soups at Ming'an Hall, Zhao Sui prepared to return to the Bamboo Courtyard. Before leaving, he instructed Yao Huang that he would return in the evening.
Yao Huang rose and said, "I'll see Your Highness off."
Zhao Sui replied, "No need for formalities."
Though his words were polite, his expression was unyieldingly cold.
Yao Huang understood this sentiment. Sometimes, when she visited others' homes, elders would insist on giving her food she didn’t want, mistaking her reluctance for shyness. She would thank them outwardly while inwardly feeling exasperated. If she were a princess, she could simply dismiss them with a curt, "I don’t want it. Stop pushing."
Since the prince didn’t want her to accompany him, Yao Huang stopped at the doorway of the main hall, watching as Qingai wheeled his chair away.
Once the master and servant had completely disappeared from sight, Yao Huang relaxed, and the five attendants in the courtyard—including Aji—also seemed more at ease.
Returning to the table, Yao Huang noted that Prince Hui had only touched the two dishes in front of him. She had sampled the other six but, despite her appetite, had only managed to eat about a plate and a half’s worth. She had finished a bowl of soup, while the prince had barely sipped half a bowl.
Yao Huang asked Huamei, "What does the Noble Consort usually do with leftover dishes?"
The Yao household had few members, and meals rarely resulted in much waste.
Huamei, masking her inner disdain, replied with superficial respect, "Her Ladyship bestows them upon the palace servants."
The ingredients sent to the Noble Consort’s palace were always the freshest, but she ate little. Many dishes remained untouched and were reheated for the maids and eunuchs, becoming delicacies on their tables.
Yao Huang glanced at Bailing, who nodded in confirmation. Satisfied, Yao Huang said, "Very well. Take these away and share them among yourselves. Also, summon the head chef from the kitchen."
Aji protested, "I’m not hungry. I’ll stay and attend to you, my lady."
Yao Huang waved her off. "Go eat first. Come back after you’re full. I’ll be resting and won’t need you for now."
The courtyard still had second-tier maids assigned by the prince’s household, so Yao Huang took the opportunity to familiarize herself with them.
Soon, two head chefs arrived—unexpectedly, there were two.
Master Kong was the chef Zhao Sui was accustomed to, usually stationed at the small kitchen in the Bamboo Courtyard. For the past three days, since the prince had been dining at Ming'an Hall, Master Kong had temporarily relocated. Madam Gao, on the other hand, had been specially selected to serve the princess consort and would remain at Ming'an Hall permanently.
Yao Huang asked Master Kong, "Are there rules for how many dishes His Highness has per meal?"
Master Kong replied, "Yes. Unless specified otherwise, His Highness has two types of staples and two side dishes for breakfast, four dishes and one soup for lunch, and two dishes and one soup for dinner."
Yao Huang inquired further, "How is His Highness’s appetite?"
Master Kong sighed. "Over the past year, His Highness has had little appetite. If he eats even thirty percent of what’s served, it’s considered a lot."
With this in mind, Yao Huang instructed both chefs, "His Highness dislikes extravagance, and my appetite isn’t large either. From now on, follow his usual routine: four side dishes for breakfast and three dishes with one soup for dinner. If I have any special requests, I’ll inform you in advance."
The two chefs nodded, and Madam Gao seized the opportunity to ask about Yao Huang’s culinary preferences.
Having settled this matter, Yao Huang retired to the daybed in the side chamber for a nap. The sunlight outside was too intense for a garden stroll at this hour.
When her five maids returned, Yao Huang kept Huamei and Bailing by her side while sending Aji and the other two to rest in the back quarters.
Huamei, ever bold, noticed Yao Huang growing drowsy and ventured to ask, "My lady, why didn’t His Highness stay to rest with you?"
Yao Huang shot her a glance. "His Highness has made it clear that he prefers solitude. There will be many more occasions where he keeps to himself, so get used to it and stop prying."
Bailing nodded vigorously.
Yao Huang turned her back to them. "Wait outside. Wake me in half an hour."
Huamei: "..."
Bailing pulled her out.
---
After her nap, Yao Huang freshened up and, with all five maids in tow, set off for the rear garden—partly to explore and partly to familiarize them with the paths.
This time, she started from the western side, traversing every garden path and stone-paved walkway leading to pavilions and gazebos.
For Yao Huang, this was her second visit, but for Aji, it was like stepping into a dreamlike paradise. She followed Yao Huang eagerly, darting wherever her mistress went, leaving Huamei alternating between silent mockery and exhaustion. By the time Yao Huang and Aji climbed the low northern hill—Cuiping Mountain—Huamei was too breathless and sore to muster any sarcasm.
Standing in the hilltop pavilion, Yao Huang kicked off her shoes and stepped onto a reclining couch, gripping a vermilion-lacquered pillar as she gazed southward over the entire garden. "This is perfect. You can see everything from here."
Aji stood speechless, awestruck.
Even Huamei, accustomed to the imperial gardens, was stunned. Rumors claimed Prince Hui’s garden was larger than Prince Kang’s, a sign of Emperor Yongchang’s favoritism—but even the emperor’s own gardens seemed half the size of this.
Cuiping Mountain spanned nearly the entire northern edge of the garden, adorned with cliffs, waterfalls, springs, and secluded pools—typical mountain scenery.
Yao Huang wandered from one scenic spot to another, ascending and descending the hill as she traversed from west to east, spending over half an hour just covering half the garden.
Descending again, she backtracked slightly before veering into the central section.
By the time the sun dipped westward, she circled back to the foot of Cuiping Mountain and followed the eastern stone path southward.
First, she passed the abandoned vegetable plot.
Yao Huang wandered through it, coating her shoes in yellow soil, then emerged satisfied.
Further south lay the bamboo grove.
Though curious about what Zhao Sui did alone inside, Yao Huang resisted peeking and soon left the grove behind.
The Bamboo Courtyard consisted of three main rooms, a kitchen, a medical chamber, and a servants’ quarters. Ten-foot-high stone walls enclosed the front and rear courtyards, with an additional ring of bamboo planted tightly against the perimeter, leaving only the southern gate accessible.
---
Meanwhile, in the eastern chamber of the Bamboo Courtyard, Doctor Liao was massaging Zhao Sui’s legs after his midday nap.
For those with paralyzed limbs, neglecting regular massage would lead to muscle atrophy. Common folk might lack the means for daily treatment, but Zhao Sui, as a royal descendant, had no such constraints. Since allowing the doctor to attend to him, he had adhered to thrice-daily sessions—only skipping yesterday for his wedding—ensuring his legs remained indistinguishable from a healthy man’s.
Throughout the twenty-minute massage, Zhao Sui kept his eyes closed, and Doctor Liao maintained a respectful silence until the session ended.
After lowering the prince’s legs, Doctor Liao tidied his tools and withdrew with a bow.
Zhao Sui wore only an undershirt and a short, loosely fitted undergarment designed for the massage.
Doctor Liao’s swift departure wasn’t negligence—it was protocol. From his first day in the Bamboo Courtyard, Zhao Sui had decreed that unless explicitly instructed, no one was to assist him, even if he fell to the ground.
Only Qingai, Feiquan, two physicians, and Master Kong were permitted to serve in the Bamboo Courtyard. Master Kong, the chef, had no need to meet with Prince Hui, while the other four had long since learned their lesson after breaking a few rules. Unless Prince Hui spoke first, they wouldn’t utter an extra word or take an unnecessary step.
When Doctor Liao stepped out of the main hall, he closed the door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar.
Qingai remained on guard in the courtyard, while Feiquan escorted Doctor Liao out before retreating to the small gatehouse to rest.
In an instant, the entire Bamboo Courtyard fell into silence.
In the eastern chamber, Zhao Sui pushed himself up from the bed.
After the massage, a layer of medicinal oil still coated his legs, requiring a wash.
A washstand stood in the room, flanked by two wooden railings extending from the bed to its side. These railings allowed Zhao Sui to support himself with his arms as he moved. Once there, he could sit on a chair and clean himself thoroughly—buckets and basins had already been prepared by Qingai and Feiquan.
Two more railings stretched from the eastern chamber, through the main hall, leading to the western chamber and the rear courtyard.
The western chamber served as Zhao Sui’s study. When tired from reading or in need of fresh air, he would slowly maneuver himself along the railings, relying solely on his arms, to the rear courtyard. There, he would gaze at the sky or the vast bamboo forest beyond the walls before returning indoors.
Initially, Zhao Sui had no desire to read or seek distraction. He would have preferred to lie in bed at Ming’an Hall indefinitely, avoiding all company and activity.
But his leg ailment wasn’t just about his legs—nor could he simply lie in bed all day if he wished. A lifeless heart was easy to maintain, but the body still lived.
If he didn’t want his skin to fester, his arms to weaken until he couldn’t lift a bowl, or to rely entirely on others to help him wash, relieve himself, or even get in and out of bed—if he wished to retain even a shred of dignity—he had no choice but to heed the physicians’ advice. Either surrender his body entirely to their care or find ways to exercise, ensuring only his legs remained useless.
---
After returning to Ming’an Hall, Yao Huang entered her private study.
The shelves had been stocked with a few books selected by the prince’s household as mere decoration, leaving Yao Huang to fill them according to her tastes. Still, the writing supplies were plentiful, each item of the finest quality, the kind only nobles and high officials could afford.
Yao Zhenhu and his son were martial men, and though Yao Huang had studied under a female tutor, she hadn’t applied herself too diligently. She learned what was taught but never ventured beyond, content with the occasional romance novel she and her mother picked up from the bookshops.
As a woman of simple tastes, even the most exquisite ink and paper held only practical value for her. She wouldn’t hesitate to use fine rice paper just because it was elegant and expensive.
"Huamei, grind the ink."
Once the order was given, Yao Huang shot Aji a meaningful glance, signaling her to observe Huamei’s technique—knowledge that might prove useful later.
Aji blinked and deliberately positioned herself behind Huamei’s right shoulder, the better to steal a lesson.
Huamei, oblivious for now, was more curious about what Yao Huang intended to do.
Once the ink was ready, Yao Huang selected a fine brush from the stand. After a moment’s thought, she swept it boldly across the pristine paper, drawing horizontal lines, then vertical ones. Mistakes were smudged out, leaving several dark blotches in their wake.
Huamei: "…"
Aji caught on: "Is my lady dividing plots for the vegetable garden?"
Huamei: "…"
Yao Huang laughed. "Exactly. Once the layout’s settled, I’ll have the soil turned and seeds planted tomorrow."
This sheet was merely a draft. Once satisfied, Yao Huang redrew two clean copies—one for herself and another for Steward Guo Shu.
The ink had barely dried when Bailing announced from outside, "My lady, His Highness has arrived at the front courtyard."
Yao Huang: "Understood."
It was time for dinner, and she meant to head straight there. But Bailing hesitated before mustering the courage to add, "My lady, shall I fetch you a fresh pair of shoes?"
Yao Huang glanced down and noticed the dust staining her rose-red embroidered silk slippers—likely from her earlier visit to the garden.
Meeting Bailing’s anxious gaze, Yao Huang smiled. "How thoughtful of you. You’ve spared me embarrassment before His Highness. Go on, then."
In her own home, dusty shoes wouldn’t have mattered. But her husband was a prince raised in luxury—he might not tolerate an unkempt wife.
Bailing hurried to the inner chamber.
Aji eyed the soiled slippers, silently resolving to be more attentive in the future, ensuring no detail escaped her notice.
Huamei kept her eyes downcast. She had noticed the dirt earlier but deliberately said nothing. Bailing’s interference now made her seem neglectful.
Once changed, Yao Huang surveyed her five attendants and said to Bailing, "You’ll accompany me to the front courtyard."
Though Bailing would only wait outside, being chosen to escort the mistress was a mark of favor among maidservants.
Huamei glared at Bailing. Was this girl angling to usurp her position as chief maid?
Bailing caught the daggered look but had no time to react before following Yao Huang out.
Huamei’s gaze shifted to Aji, left behind with her. With a smirk, she remarked, "See how Bailing’s little act has outshone even you?"
Aji: "…It’s just a trip to the front courtyard. You’re overthinking it."
Huamei: "…"
---
In the front courtyard, the dining table was set, awaiting only the prince and princess before dishes were served.
By now, Yao Huang had grown somewhat accustomed to Prince Hui’s lifeless aura. After exchanging greetings, she took her seat to his right.
The moment she settled, Zhao Sui said, "Serve the meal."
Qingai went to relay the order and remained outside.
Yao Huang smiled at the prince. "Your Highness, I’ve finalized the garden layout. I sketched a plan earlier—would you like to see it later?"
Zhao Sui nodded.
Yao Huang continued, "Also, we couldn’t possibly finish all the dishes from noon. It’s a waste, so I asked the kitchen to prepare fewer portions. Does that suit you?"
Zhao Sui: "Acceptable."
Yao Huang privately lamented his reticence when the kitchen sent in a plate of chilled pork liver and golden-hued fruit slices, their sweet-tart fragrance filling the air.
She eyed the serving girl but held her tongue until the girl departed before whispering to the prince, "Your Highness, what fruit is this?"
Zhao Sui glanced at the plate. "Mangosteen. A tribute from Jiaozhou."
Yao Huang knew of Jiaozhou—the empire’s southernmost province, said to be so warm in winter that it felt like spring in the capital.
"Is it delicious?"
"Hm."
She speared a slice with a fruit fork, about to bring it to her own plate when inspiration struck. With a smile, she offered it to Zhao Sui instead. "Your Highness first."
Zhao Sui leaned back. "I’ll serve myself."
Noting his faint frown, Yao Huang ate it herself. As the burst of honeyed sweetness touched with a hint of tartness danced on her tongue, her eyes lit up with pure delight.
Once she swallowed, she exclaimed, "It’s wonderful! Truly as sweet as honey."
Zhao Sui recalled Feiquan’s report from days prior and remarked, "His Majesty gifted two baskets. They don’t keep well—eat as much as you like. The rest can be given to the servants."
Yao Huang helped herself to another slice. "Does Your Highness not care for them?"
Zhao Sui: "Indifferent. Neither like nor dislike."
Yao Huang: "What fruits does Your Highness prefer, then?"
Zhao Sui: "…They’re all much the same."
Yao Huang suspected his lack of appetite was due to his leg ailment and made a mental note to ask Master Kong about it later. After eating three slices herself, she picked up another fork and served him one. "You should try some too. It feels awkward eating alone," she said.
Zhao Sui accepted it this time. Noticing Yao Huang glancing his way again, he ate two more slices on his own to avoid further assistance.
As their appetites warmed up, two hot dishes arrived, accompanied by a pot of fragrant chicken soup.
Yao Huang worried about annoying Prince Hui with too much chatter but couldn’t help stealing glances at him. Dining was best enjoyed when everyone relaxed—otherwise, one person eating heartlessly while the other barely touched their food would either seem inconsiderate or leave someone hungry.
Yao Huang had large, dark eyes like black grapes, and Zhao Sui had understood her dilemma the first time he saw them. At just seventeen, the young princess consort shouldn’t have her meals spoiled by discomfort. Since he only spent limited evenings with her each month, he might as well eat a little more to put her at ease.
So, Zhao Sui increased his servings.
After the meal, Yao Huang ladled him a bowl of chicken soup, filling it eight-tenths full. Chicken soup was excellent—nourishing, blood-enriching, and body-strengthening, perfect for the prince.
Under Yao Huang’s occasional sidelong glances, Zhao Sui finished the bowl.
Once they rinsed their mouths, he said to her, "You may return first. I’ll bathe here and join you later. This will be our routine from now on."
Yao Huang left, satisfied and full.
Half an hour later, when the night had deepened, Zhao Sui, now changed into casual robes, was wheeled to the rear courtyard by Qingai.
Yao Huang had already freshened up, wearing a fresh set of water-red sleepwear. She hid in the washroom first, emerging only after Qingai left.
Seeing Prince Hui reclining against the headboard, Yao Huang picked up a sketch from the dressing table and sat beside him. "Look," she said, showing him the drawing. "I’ve divided the vegetable plot into northern and southern sections. The southern part, from outer to inner, will grow sweet potatoes, wheat, and corn. The northern part will have vegetable beds, melon patches, and grapevines—taller plants are placed further in so they won’t block the view."
Zhao Sui first noticed her handwriting, which could only be described as neat.
Yao Huang continued explaining, "With half an acre, we’d never finish all the vegetables. Growing a variety lets us enjoy more flavors, don’t you think?"
Zhao Sui neither agreed nor disagreed.
Pointing at the five vegetable beds, she asked, "These are just five types I listed randomly. Do you have any preferences, Your Highness? The melons and grapes too—should we change anything?"
Zhao Sui replied, "No need. Proceed as you’ve planned."
Confident in her layout, Yao Huang smiled and set the sketch aside.
"Let’s sleep," Zhao Sui said.
Without the wedding candles tonight, Yao Huang extinguished most lamps, leaving only a dim one near the washroom.
The bed area was pitch-dark. As Yao Huang approached, she noticed the heavy wheelchair by the bedside, its backrest bare.
The prince hadn’t removed his pants!
Realizing he wasn’t in the mood tonight, Yao Huang instinctively relaxed. Though she’d found pleasure the night before, she still remembered the initial pain and dreaded repeating it every time.
Climbing into bed, she slipped under the covers and lay flat like him.
As her breathing steadied, a faint, pleasant scent reached her.
She sniffed lightly and exclaimed, "What bath fragrance did you use, Your Highness? It smells wonderful."
Zhao Sui: "..."
He hadn’t used any—it was the lingering aroma of medicinal massage oil, stubborn even after bathing.
"Qingai prepared it. I’m not sure of the specifics."
Yao Huang shifted closer, embracing him as she had the previous night, and inhaled deeply. "So refreshing—much better than my floral water."
The palace-provided floral water was fragrant but somewhat cloying.
Zhao Sui tensed, unsure whether she genuinely admired the scent or was subtly hinting at intimacy.
Though he doubted she truly enjoyed sharing his bed, why else would she hold him like this?
"Don’t like your current floral water?"
"It’s fine, just a bit too strong."
Zhao Sui said, "Tell Nanny Liu tomorrow. The residence likely has alternatives. If not, we’ll order a batch from the perfumers."
Yao Huang hesitated. "I’ve only just married in. Maybe later..."
Her shy fidgeting made his left arm, pressed against her, feel like it was rolling through cotton.
After a stiff pause, Zhao Sui grasped the hand resting on his waist.
He only meant to stop her from brushing against sensitive areas, but Yao Huang misunderstood, thinking he simply wanted to hold her hand.
Yao Zhenhu was a rough man, and Luo Jinhua hailed from a small village. As a child, Yao Huang often stumbled upon her parents embracing or kissing.
Prince Hui was so aloof during the day that Yao Huang saw this rare initiative as a chance to bond. Her heart softened, and she hugged him tighter, murmuring shyly, "Your Highness..."
Marital closeness made the palace feel more like home.
And Zhao Sui, addressed as "Your Highness" for five years, now learned the title could carry a lilting, tender twist.
The princess consort’s invitation was unmistakable. Not wanting to embarrass her, Zhao Sui closed his eyes and said, "I’m thirsty. Fetch me some water."
Yao Huang: "..."
So he’d held her hand just to order her around?
Pouting but not daring to complain, she obediently got up.
To her shock, when she returned, a pair of sleep pants now lay on the wheelchair!
Her hand trembled, and so did her heart—again?
