If it had been a concubine who rashly altered the kitchen nu, the Princess Consort wouldn’t have been so furious.
But Shen Wei was rely a lowly maidservant, not even a secondary consort! How dare she overstep the Princess Consort’s authority and interfere with the kitchen arrangents?
"My lady, please calm yourself," Granny Liu quickly stepped forward, her tone soothing. "Though Shen Wei is just a maidservant, she does enjoy His Highness’s favor. Once she gives birth, she’ll be promoted to secondary consort. For now, don’t trouble yourself with her. The most important matter is tending to His Highness, who is poisoned and injured. As for Shen Wei, she’s under our watch—she can’t cause any real trouble."
The Princess Consort pressed her lips together, gripping her prayer beads tightly, counting them one by one.
She knew Granny Liu spoke sense, but her heart still churned with discomfort. The news of Shen Wei’s pregnancy was like a sharp thorn lodged deep within her. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the pain remained.
She could only console herself with the thought that Shen Wei was rely a vessel for bearing children. The child Shen Wei bore would never be hers to raise.
Sooner or later, Shen Wei would taste the bitter agony of separation from her own flesh and blood.
The Princess Consort silently recited a few lines of Buddhist scripture, forcing down the restless emotions before making her way to Prince Yan’s chambers.
The night was deep and stiflingly hot.
When the Princess Consort arrived at Prince Yan’s door, she saw Liu Ruyan, Liu Qiao'er, and Zhang Miaoyu—his three concubines—already gathered there. Even the maidservant Xiang'er stood at the very end. Liu Ruyan was dressed in flowing white robes, her sleeves fluttering in the night breeze; Liu Qiao'er wore plain attire, her head bowed in thought; Zhang Miaoyu held a roasted sweet potato, savoring it with delight.
Prince Yan was the pillar of the household. His injury naturally demanded the attention of his won, who took turns keeping vigil by his side.
The Princess Consort’s gaze settled on Xiang'er at the end of the line. The girl was heavily powdered and rouged, clad in gaudy silks, her hair adorned with half a dozen ornate hairpins. She looked less like soone attending to an ailing lord and more like a courtesan from a pleasure house. Xiang'er ca from humble origins and had no sense of refinent—she simply draped herself in the most expensive trinkets she could find, appearing garish and absurd.
"You have no business here. Leave," the Princess Consort said, her voice laced with disdain. A re maidservant had no place keeping vigil alongside the Princess Consort and concubines.
Xiang'er shrank back timidly. "Princess Consort, this humble one only wishes to see His Highness once, to ease her worries."
Worries for the prince? More like a desperate bid for his attention.
Prince Yan had visited Fangfei Courtyard only twice—once for less than the ti it took to drink half a cup of tea, and once to spend the night. After that, he had forgotten Xiang'er entirely.
Anxious, Xiang'er feared that if the prince didn’t summon her again, she would fall completely out of favor and return to the days of being bullied and scorned.
Gathering her courage, she had co to offer her services.
But the Princess Consort only gave her a withering glance. How dare a lowly maidservant presu to stand among the proper consorts? The audacity.
Granny Liu motioned for a maid to drag Xiang'er away. The girl opened her mouth to call out to Prince Yan, but a hand clamped over her lips before she could make a sound.
The night grew darker. The Princess Consort led the three concubines into the chamber, where they bowed and offered their greetings. Prince Yan was dining, and the Princess Consort’s eyes flickered over the dishes—bass in milky broth, astragalus fish slices, and other simple fare. Her delicate brows furrowed.
Was this the ager fare Shen Wei had arranged for His Highness?
At the very least, sothing like crucian carp tofu stew or ginseng chicken with yam would be more fitting for a convalescent.
With utmost deference, the Princess Consort said, "Tonight, this humble wife and our sisters will take turns attending to Your Highness."
Prince Yan set down his chopsticks, initially inclined to refuse.
But then he rembered—he was only pretending to be ill. The longer his "illness" lasted and the more severe it appeared, the better it would silence those at court who opposed his plans to reinforce the troops and storm the enemy city.
So he nodded in agreent.
The purpose of "keeping vigil" was to ensure the patient received proper care during illness. The prince’s household had no shortage of maids and servants to tend to him; there was no real need for his wives to attend him personally.
But their presence would serve as proof of harmony within the inner quarters, preserving the dignity of the household in the eyes of outsiders.
They divided the shifts, rotating every two hours.
The Princess Consort took the first watch.
After finishing his al, Prince Yan retired to his study to handle official docunts. Half an hour later, a young eunuch respectfully presented a bowl of dicinal decoction to the Princess Consort, reminding her, "The imperial physician instructed that this dicine must be taken while hot, my lady. Its efficacy diminishes once cooled."
The Princess Consort carried the bowl into the study.
Prince Yan was diligent even in illness. Before bed, he forced himself to review reports from the border, his brow furrowed in concentration.
The study was brightly lit by candlelight. Prince Yan, clad in dark sleeping robes, his black hair loose around his shoulders, looked strikingly handso in profile. His right hand held a scroll as he read intently, occasionally dipping his brush to pen a response. When the Princess Consort entered with the dicine, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow at the sight of him.
Once, in the early days of their marriage, they had sat together like this—reading by lamplight, her sleeves brushing his as she ground ink for him.
But ti was rciless. No bond, no matter how tender, could withstand its erosion.
Setting the bowl down gently, she said, "Your Highness, it’s ti for your dicine."
Prince Yan’s mind was wholly absorbed in the morial from the Minister of War. He didn’t hear her at all. The Princess Consort called out several tis, but not a single word of acknowledgnt ca. Her heart ached with bitterness.
How far they had drifted apart—now he wouldn’t even listen to her voice.
By the ti Prince Yan finished the remaining reports and looked up, it was deep into the night. The Princess Consort still stood beside his desk, where the dicine had long gone cold.
He drained the bowl in one gulp, then retired to his bedchamber and fell asleep the mont his head touched the pillow—without exchanging a single word with his wife.
The candlelight cast a warm glow as the Princess Consort sat by the bed. She took out a handkerchief and gently wiped Prince Yan’s face.
He was in the pri of his life, his health robust, his features only growing more striking with ti. anwhile, wrinkles had begun to fra her eyes, her complexion sallow. She could only watch helplessly as her husband’s heart drifted further away.
But it didn’t matter. If the prince was cold, she still had her two children to rely on.
So ti later, Prince Yan awoke with a dry throat.
Rubbing his temples drowsily, he rasped, "Water."
His half-lidded eyes caught sight of a pale figure by the bed—a figure clad entirely in white, with long black hair cascading over its shoulders and a face as bloodless as snow.
A chill shot down his spine, jolting him fully awake.
He bolted upright, reaching for the sword by his bed, ready to slay the ghost.
But as his vision cleared, the soft candlelight revealed the breathtakingly beautiful face of Liu Ruyan.
Prince Yan froze, sword in hand, then sighed inwardly.
He’d nearly frightened himself to death, thinking he’d seen a vengeful spirit!
The Princess Consort’s shift had ended, and now it was Liu Ruyan’s turn to attend him.
Dressed in a flowing silver-white gown with wide, trailing sleeves, Liu Ruyan wore a white jade hairpin, her face pale as moonlight. Tears shimred in her eyes as she gazed at Prince Yan with heartbreaking sorrow.
When she saw the sword in his hand, its blade glinting coldly—much like the prince’s own aloof heart—two crystalline tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Does Your Highness despise so much," she whispered, "that you would draw your sword against ?"
Prince Yan sheathed the blade and replied patiently, "Not at all. Don’t overthink it."
Liu Ruyan let out a bitter laugh and said mournfully, "As the ancient saying goes, 'When parents are ill, taste their dicine first; attend to them day and night without leaving their bedside.' I had hoped to quietly accompany Prince Yan, but never did I imagine his heart no longer holds a place for ."
Prince Yan: ...
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