From a young age, Yao Huang had grown up witnessing the affectionate bond between her parents. In her mind, a loving couple should always discuss matters together, not have one person make decisions while the other simply obeyed.
So, when she could no longer hold back, she twisted her restrained wrist and tentatively suggested, "Your Highness, could you... let go of me?"
Zhao Sui paused. "Uncomfortable?"
Yao Huang burned with embarrassment—it was precisely the opposite that made it unbearable.
The delicate flush on her face spread like mist across her skin, leaving no trace of resistance. Seeing this, Zhao Sui continued.
Like a beast shaking a tree, tender branches trembled in unison, and the songbirds perched nearby let out startled cries.
Unable to move her hands, Yao Huang buried her face in the pillow. "Please don’t... the servants outside might hear."
Only then did Zhao Sui understand her concern.
But he was a prince. For the past six months, restraining his temper and not taking his frustrations out on the servants had already drained his patience. Was he now supposed to sneak around in the night with his lawfully wedded princess, worrying about what the maids might think?
Yao Huang’s words only fanned the flames of his irritation, and in that moment, all of it was directed at her.
Poor Yao Huang. Just that morning, she had whispered to Aji about being more careful in the future, yet now she found herself powerless.
When the storm finally subsided, Prince Hui’s chin rested atop Yao Huang’s head. She was entirely enveloped in his embrace—his firm left arm behind her, his now-relaxed hand in front, its calloused palm rising and falling with each breath.
Her upper body burned like a furnace, while her lower half remained cool as dew.
Her heart pounded violently, and a faint dread crept in at the thought of the six long nights each month that lay ahead. Prince Hui was too formidable at night, and Yao Huang worried she wouldn’t endure.
He must have been pent up all day in that wheelchair, saving every ounce of energy just to expend it on her!
Suddenly, his hand brushed against her face.
Yao Huang tensed, fearing he might repeat last night’s ordeal. Why else wouldn’t he pull away?
Zhao Sui’s fingers met damp, feverish skin—traces of her earlier tears.
Remembering her tearful state, he reminded her coldly, "You brought this upon yourself."
He had wanted to sleep, but she had provoked him. If she didn’t want to cry again, she’d better behave. When the time came for their marital duties, he would show restraint, considering her youth.
Yao Huang bit her lip. It was true—she had sought this herself, rushing to seduce him so she wouldn’t end up a concubine to another prince.
"I know. I don’t blame you, Your Highness. My tears don’t mean I dislike it... please don’t misunderstand."
A vague "Hmm" came from above before he shifted away.
Yao Huang quietly adjusted her undergarments, resolving to have the seamstresses make soft cloths for nights like these. She couldn’t keep ruining her own clothes.
After calling for water and cleaning up separately, they returned to bed. Still mindful of his earlier misunderstanding, Yao Huang snuggled close again.
Truth be told, the prince’s broad shoulders and strong arms made for a comfortable embrace.
Now that their union had been consummated, she was truly his princess—entitled to act as the mistress of the household.
Zhao Sui: "...Not sleeping yet?"
In the quiet of the night, Yao Huang’s voice was soft. "I am... I just wanted to hold you. During the day, I don’t dare speak to you. Only now do I feel like you’re really my husband."
Zhao Sui: "...I’m simply unaccustomed to idle chatter. If you have something to say, speak anytime. I won’t ignore you."
Yao Huang smiled. "I can tell. You seem cold, but you’re actually quite kind."
Zhao Sui stared silently at the canopy.
Kind?
There had been times when he’d thrown bowls and poured out medicine in fury. She hadn’t seen that side of him yet—otherwise, she’d be like Qingai and the others, too afraid to say a word to him.
When Prince Hui fell silent again, Yao Huang remembered something urgent—something she had to settle tonight to prepare for tomorrow.
Taking advantage of their closeness, she nuzzled his firm shoulder. "Your Highness, commoners have the tradition of returning to the bride’s family three days after the wedding. Do princes follow this custom too?"
None of her neighbors had ever married into royalty, and no official from the Ministry of Rites had explained these things to her. She truly had no idea. And with Prince Hui’s mobility limited, her worries grew.
Zhao Sui considered. It was optional—up to the prince’s preference or whether the wife’s family was worthy of such respect.
Since losing the use of his legs, he had refused nine out of ten summons from the emperor himself. What in-law family could possibly compel him to visit against his will?
His silence made Yao Huang’s heart sink, yet she couldn’t bring herself to resent him. The palace grounds were smooth and accessible, but outside, maneuvering a wheelchair would be troublesome.
Leaning against him, she forced a light tone. "I see, we won’t observe it then. That’s fine—my parents are simple folk. I’d worry they might offend you with their manners."
Still, Zhao Sui said nothing.
Realizing she’d dampened his mood, Yao Huang feigned a yawn. "Well, it’s late. Let’s sleep."
She let go and turned onto her side, eyes wide with worry. Without the visit, her parents wouldn’t see her, and they’d surely imagine the worst about her life in the palace.
Zhao Sui had no desire to leave the palace. Yet he had insisted on personally fetching his bride—a gesture meant to compensate for the neglect she’d endure as his wife. If he’d gone that far, he might as well complete the formalities.
"I’ll accompany you for the visit. Discuss the arrangements with Guo Shu. From now on, you’ll handle all social matters within and outside the household. No need to consult me."
Yao Huang turned in delight. "Really? You mean the visit—"
Zhao Sui: "Mm."
Overjoyed, she threw herself against him, clinging tightly to his chest. "You’re so good to me! I thought you wouldn’t want to go."
Zhao Sui had known her earlier indifference was an act.
"Enough. Sleep."
Too excited to rest, Yao Huang shifted back to his side and wrapped an arm around him. "It’s barely been dark for long. Are you truly tired?"
Back when she shared a room with Aji, they’d sometimes talk deep into the night.
Zhao Sui: "...What would you do if we didn’t sleep?"
Yao Huang: "I could tell you about my family! You’ve seen our courtyard—it’s smaller than Ming’an Hall, nothing compared to the palace, but among sixth-rank officials in the capital, it’s quite decent. Many young officials who come from the provinces can’t afford homes and have to live in government quarters."
"And the out-of-town commanders in the barracks have it worse—most stay right in the camps, sending their pay back to their parents and wives in their hometowns, or buying modest houses in nearby towns."
"My father was fortunate to be born into a local family in the capital—otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to afford a house. My mother was lucky too. Most girls from small towns could only marry locals, but she happened to meet my father when he went to the market to buy wine. Heh, they took a liking to each other at first sight, and before long, my mother became the envy of the town as the wife of a capital official."
So, even though Yao Zhenhu might seem unremarkable among the capital’s officials, within his circle of colleagues—mostly lower-ranking officers—the Yao family stood out as well-off. Yao Huang had grown up surrounded by admiration, living a rather comfortable and content life. The only ones who ever put on airs in her presence were the family of Commander Li, her father’s direct superior.
Yao Huang chattered on, moving from stories about her parents and brother to tales of her maternal grandfather.
Since she didn’t seem to need Zhao Sui’s input, he simply listened until she eventually grew drowsy and nestled against him, drifting off to sleep.
They shared the bed at night, but come morning, one remained seated in a wheelchair while the other stood, creating a natural distance between them.
Prince Hui went to the front courtyard to freshen up, while the senior maids entered to attend to the princess consort.
Bailing had been on night duty, and the moment Yao Huang glanced her way, Bailing’s ears turned red.
Once everything was in order, Yao Huang dismissed the others, keeping only Bailing behind for a private word. "When you served Noble Consort Du, did you ever take night shifts?"
Bailing shook her head—night duty was reserved for senior palace maids.
Yao Huang pressed further, "When the emperor visited the noble consort, did she assign senior maids to keep watch?"
Bailing nodded. Of course they did—neglecting such duties would be a grave oversight.
Yao Huang understood now. In the palace or wealthy households, people had thick skins—they didn’t care if the maids overheard certain things.
Since it was common practice, Yao Huang saw no reason to deviate. She continued, "Are there rules in the palace regarding how senior maids should conduct themselves during night duty?"
Bailing grasped her meaning and knelt. "Your Highness need not worry. Whether in the palace or the princely residence, whether during night duty or otherwise, servants are strictly forbidden from discussing their masters’ private affairs. Those who violate this rule will be punished accordingly."
Yao Huang nodded. "Good. You may rise."
Bailing was far more agreeable than Huamei. Yao Huang entrusted her with a small, confidential task: if she ever overheard anyone gossiping about the prince and princess consort’s private matters, she was to report it immediately.
Once Yao Huang left for the front courtyard with Aji, Huamei immediately cornered Bailing. "What did the princess consort say to you just now?"
Bailing, ever meek, had been among the lowest-ranked of Noble Consort Du’s second-tier maids. Back in the palace, she had obediently carried out tasks not just for the noble consort but also for Huamei and others.
Trembling under Huamei’s glare, she lowered her head. "A strand of hair was out of place. Her Highness asked me to fix it."
Huamei didn’t believe her for a second. "Remember who your true master is. If you step out of line, Her Ladyship has plenty of ways to replace you."
Bailing kept her head bowed.
With no proof, Huamei could only scoff and walk away.
.
In the front courtyard, perhaps noticing Yao Huang’s fondness for mangoes, the kitchen had prepared another plate of sliced fruit for breakfast. Yao Huang savored each piece, then turned to Zhao Sui with a playful grin. "If you really don’t like them, may I indulge freely?"
Zhao Sui replied, "Go ahead. But mangoes can be heaty—limit yourself to two or three a day."
Yao Huang eyed the plate. "How many mangoes were used for this serving?"
Zhao Sui: "..."
Yao Huang smirked. So, even the esteemed Prince Hui simply ate what the kitchen served without knowing the details.
"I’ll ask the kitchen later."
After the meal, Zhao Sui retreated to his tranquil bamboo courtyard, while Yao Huang remained in the main hall, summoning Madam Gao from the kitchen.
Madam Gao arrived promptly, carrying an exquisite fruit basket containing four mangoes—each the size of an adult’s palm, their skins half-green, half-red.
Yao Huang picked one up, inspecting it before giving it a gentle squeeze. The skin yielded slightly under her fingers.
If a peach or apricot were this soft, it would either be overripe or on the verge of spoiling.
Madam Gao explained, "Mangoes are best when they give just a little. Any softer, and they’ll go bad."
Yao Huang asked, "How many are left in the residence?"
Madam Gao answered, "These four were meant for today. There are seventeen more in the icehouse."
The emperor had gifted two baskets, but with few guests at the wedding banquet, only a little over half a basket had been used.
Yao Huang inquired, "How long can the ones in storage last?"
Madam Gao replied, "They’ll keep for another five or six days, but the fresher they are, the better the taste."
Yao Huang nodded. "Prepare two baskets like this one—five mangoes in each. I’ll take them for my family when I return home tomorrow."
Since the prince didn’t care for them and she’d grow tired of eating them all herself, it was only fitting to share the delicacy with her parents and maternal grandfather’s household.
Madam Gao accepted the order but added, "These fruits can be tricky to slice. Perhaps Your Highness could assign a maid to learn the proper method, so she can assist during your visit."
The five senior maids stood nearby, and Aji’s eyes lit up at the chance to master a new skill.
But Yao Huang turned to Huamei instead, smiling. "You’ve served Noble Consort Du often—do you know how to slice mangoes?"
Huamei stiffened. "That’s the kitchen’s duty. I’ve never learned."
Yao Huang’s smile widened. "Perfect. You’ll go with Madam Gao to learn. I’ll take you with me tomorrow."
Huamei bristled at the thought of menial kitchen work but was relieved that the princess consort seemed to trust her with tasks.
Aji watched longingly. She wanted to learn too—after all, Yao Huang had encouraged her to broaden her skills.
Yao Huang chuckled. "The rest of you may observe as well. Share the sliced mangoes with Madam Gao afterward."
Aji, Chunyan, and Qiuchan—who had never tasted such imperial delicacies—couldn’t help but salivate.
Huamei lifted her chin slightly. Mangoes? She’d had her share back in the palace!
But slicing them was another matter. The fruit’s slippery flesh made it difficult—too much pressure bruised the fruit, while too little caused it to slip.
Despite Madam Gao’s repeated warnings, Huamei nicked her finger, drawing a thin line of blood.
Chunyan and Qiuchan recoiled, while Bailing rushed to help.
Aji eyed the blood-streaked mango slice, thinking, I’m not eating that.
Huamei noticed her expression and snapped, "I’m injured. You do it."
Aji was eager to try, but being ordered by Huamei rankled. "Her Highness assigned you to learn. If you want to switch, ask her first."
Having grown up sheltered in the Yao household—treated almost like family—Aji had seen enough of the world to know true servants lived in fear of their masters. Someone like Huamei, who disrespected the princess consort, deserved no sympathy—not even for a minor cut.
As Huamei made to leave, Aji muttered just loud enough to be heard, "I doubt a maid from Noble Consort Du’s side would be this clumsy. You probably hurt yourself on purpose to get out of work."
Huamei froze.
She wasn’t incompetent—and she’d never disgrace Noble Consort Du’s name!
With a determined turn of her steps, Huamei gritted her teeth and picked up the slippery fruit, continuing to slice it.
The senior maids had gone to the kitchen, and Yao Huang sent someone to summon the steward, Guo Shu, to discuss the replanting of the vegetable garden.
The Yao family's vegetable plots were always tilled and furrowed by Yao Zhenhu and Yao Lin. As they worked ahead, Luo Jinhua casually scattered the seeds, finishing the small garden patches in no time. There was no need for Yao Huang to lift a finger—the family chatted and laughed while working, treating it as mere amusement.
Once the seedlings sprouted, Yao Huang would occasionally pluck a few weeds when the mood struck her, treating it as a pastime. What she truly loved was the lush greenery of the vegetable beds and the joy of picking ripe produce herself. But if she had to handle everything from tilling to weeding alone, she’d rather not bother with such labor.
Thus, for the half-acre plot in Prince Hui’s estate, Yao Huang only directed the work with her words and ideas, leaving most of the manual labor to the household servants.
Guo Shu, learning that the prince had already approved the plan, promptly agreed. Tilling, planting, and sowing were simple tasks, but the grapevines required hiring specialists from a vineyard to purchase and plant the seedlings.
With ample funds and manpower, the estate acted swiftly. By morning, the half-acre plot had been plowed, furrowed, and neatly arranged into beds. After the scorching midday hours passed, the grape seedlings arrived at the estate.
Yao Huang brought Aji to oversee the work in the garden, mainly to observe how the grape trellises were constructed. She adored grapes, but the Yao family’s small courtyard had no space to grow them, so they had always bought them from outside.
Since the garden was too close to the secluded bamboo courtyard where Prince Hui resided, the servants, following Guo Shu’s instructions, worked in silence. Any questions were whispered to the overseer before resuming their tasks.
Once everything was done, Guo Shu personally led the workers away, leaving behind a perfectly arranged garden.
Yao Huang glanced toward the bamboo courtyard before taking a detour with Aji back to the front of the estate.
As the sun dipped westward, Qingai wheeled Prince Hui out of the bamboo courtyard. When they reached the main path, Qingai stole a glance at the garden, then at the prince’s unmoving profile, but dared not say anything before heading south.
The senior maids took turns on night duty, and tonight Yao Huang assigned Huamei to keep watch.
After extinguishing the lamps, Yao Huang’s eyes lingered on the empty wheelchair before she climbed into bed and nestled close to Prince Hui. She struck up a casual conversation, "The garden’s all set. Did you take a look when you passed by earlier?"
Zhao Sui replied indifferently, "No."
Yao Huang pressed, "Then shall I accompany you to see it tomorrow morning? The grapevines have nearly reached the top of the trellis—they’re a lovely shade of green."
Zhao Sui remained as indifferent as ever.
With her family visit the next day, Yao Huang needed her rest and didn’t press further. After a brief embrace, they both drifted off to sleep.
In the adjoining room, Huamei, lying on her makeshift bed, strained her ears for a long while, confirming that the prince and princess required no further service. Her thoughts wandered to Prince Hui’s legs and the memory of his tall, upright figure when he used to pay respects at the Yikun Palace—a dream many palace maids secretly cherished but never dared voice.
Now that his legs were useless, some things must be beyond his capability, right?
Had Prince Hui remained whole, she might have envied Yao Huang’s good fortune. But with him now like a half-rotten mango, Huamei found herself at peace with it.
