In truth, Empress Rong knew perfectly well in her own mind that this poison could not possibly be Feng Qingyin’s doing. She did not yet possess the capability to slip undetected into Yuyang Hall and administer a toxin without anyone being the wiser.

She had sufficient motive, yes — but she would not have used an acute and deadly poison.

The Crown Prince was presently her sole hope. Without the Crown Prince, Feng Qingyin would have no position of Crown Princess to assume.

So Feng Qingyin would never have genuinely considered harming Zhan Yuheng. Even if her aim had been to strike at Feng Jiu’er, she would not have resorted to something so extreme.

It was simply that her temper was running high right now — and with her son genuinely poisoned and wounded on top of all else, if she did not find some outlet for it, Empress Rong feared she would do herself an internal injury.

The blame could only fall on this wretched girl for daring to offer her such a preposterous scheme last night — the scheme to administer something to Heng’er.

Did she not know how frail Heng’er’s constitution was right now, that he could not withstand even the slightest disturbance?

Still, by all appearances, it seemed equally unlikely to have been Feng Jiu’er’s doing. If she had truly intended to poison Heng’er, as Feng Jiu’er herself had reasoned — had she not intervened to save him, Heng’er might not have survived regardless.

So if it was not Feng Qingyin, and not Feng Jiu’er, then who?

Who had spent lavishly to summon the foremost assassin of the Bei Mu nation from years past, in order to make an attempt on Heng’er’s life?

Who had infiltrated the palace — and even penetrated the heavily guarded Yuyang Hall itself — to administer this poison?

If Heng’er had any truly mortal enemies, then beyond the Eighth Prince and the Ninth Prince, there were only the other two princes within the palace.

But the Eighth Prince had returned recently and had done nothing but enjoy the gardens and gaze at the moon — savoring a rare interval of peace. Before long, the Eighth Prince would have to leave the imperial city again and head back to the frontier.

Over all these years, the Eighth Prince had never been known to keep close ties with any powerful ministers. Beyond the matters of marching and warfare, the Eighth Prince seemed to have long since lost interest in anything else.

The Ninth Prince… how could it be A’Jiu? A’Jiu was not that manner of person.

If he wanted this realm, he would come for it by the most direct means — through force, to topple the court by sheer strength of arms.

Something as underhanded as poisoning an enemy — he would never stoop to it.

That left only those two remaining princes. Otherwise, the palace’s other inhabitants were all princesses — and a princess was by destiny forever barred from sitting upon the throne.

Even if the Crown Prince fell from power, no princess would have any standing to rule as emperor. So the princesses were not a possibility.

Could it truly be those two frail, dissolute princes?

And yet — how could those two spineless wretches have mustered such audacity?

Empress Rong’s hand tightened into a fist, her gaze settling into cold, heavy contemplation.

Who in the world was plotting against her Heng’er from the shadows?

“Your Highness…”

“Get out! This Empress has no wish to lay eyes on you! Get out!”

“Your Highness…”

“If you are not gone this instant, you will receive fifty strokes of the rod!”

Feng Qingyin bit her lip. Now, all hope was truly, utterly extinguished.

With nothing but tears, she retreated in humiliation and withdrew. She was gone.

This was the second time she had come to lodge in the palace, only to be driven out.

Returning to Feng Manor, she ran straight into two of her elder sisters emerging from inside — Sixth Miss Feng Xiyu and Seventh Miss Feng Anya.

Feng Qingyin lowered her head, wanting no interaction with them whatsoever, and immediately turned to leave.

But a sharp voice followed after her from behind: “Well, well — is this not our Feng family’s foremost beauty, the Eighth Miss?”

“Does the Feng family even have an Eighth Miss? Should our Jiu’er not have originally been the Eighth Miss? To have inexplicably become the Ninth Miss — it truly suits her name rather fittingly!”

In truth, the name Feng Jiu’er had never originally come from her place in the birth order. Supposedly, General Long had a fondness for the number nine, and so gave her the name Jiu’er.

At the time, Feng Jiu’er had not yet been acknowledged and brought back into the household, so Jiu’er herself had held the position of Eighth Miss. But before long, Feng Qingyin had become their father’s adopted daughter and taken the title of Eighth Miss. Jiu’er had consequently been shifted down, and so she became the Ninth Miss she was now.

What no one could have foreseen was that this girl — originally brought back merely as an adopted daughter — would grow more beautiful with each passing year, until she had become the most striking young lady in the entire Feng household.

The truth was, as young children, everyone had known that Jiu’er was the most beautiful among them. It was only after a great fire that she had been left completely disfigured.

“What foremost beauty? Have you not heard — Jiu’er’s face has already healed?”

Feng Anya covered her lips, laughing as she spoke: “I’ve heard it all from people at the Imperial Academy. Jiu’er’s face is said to be completely flawless — exquisitely, breathtakingly beautiful.”

“All those so-called foremost beauties — compared to her, they are nothing but dust on the ground. Not worth mentioning.”

“Even if Feng Jiu’er’s face has healed, she is still an ugly wretch!” Feng Qingyin’s grip tightened until her nails bit into her palms. She had reached the end of her endurance, and she spun around to glare at them both.

Others could say what they liked, but no one — not ever — was permitted to say she could not compare to Feng Jiu’er. Least of all was anyone permitted to say that Feng Jiu’er was more beautiful than her.

She was the most beautiful young lady of the Feng household — who did not know it? And not merely within the Feng household — throughout the entire imperial city, who would dare say otherwise?

The grandest and most elegant banquet of the imperial city’s year was fast approaching — the Flowing Light Banquet, hosted by the master of the Renowned Gentleman Estate. Last year, she had been bestowed the title of the most accomplished young lady of the city. This year, that title would still be hers.

What could Feng Jiu’er do? She could do nothing at all!

Even if her face had healed, what of it? Could she sing? Could she dance? Could she compose poetry and trade witty verses?

A wild girl who knew nothing, who did nothing but keep company with men all day — what right did she have to be compared to her?

Feng Qingyin glared at both of her sisters, her eyes reddening with fury.

“Within this household, Feng Jiu’er has not a single shred of worth or standing. As for who Father truly cares about — surely you do not need me to tell you.”

At those words, the two sisters’ expressions shifted at once, turning distinctly unpleasant.

Yes — Father did care about her. It was because Father doted on this stray girl he had taken in that the two of them, her own flesh-and-blood sisters, were constantly made to bow and scrape before her.

And the truth was, that girl’s mother had been nothing but a maidservant! She had simply seduced Father, and for that, mother and daughter alike had soared to heights they had no right to reach.

Did she not know her own origins? Had she no sense of where she stood?

“Is that so?” Feng Xiyu gave a cold sniff. “The way I see it, Father has not seemed to pay you much attention lately either.”

“I am the future Crown Princess. Why would Father not pay attention?” In truth, Feng Qingyin knew that what she said now was pointless.

She was simply seething, and aggrieved, and desperately wanted someone to take it out on.

“The future Crown Princess?” Feng Anya suddenly let out a snicker. “Dare I ask, Eighth Sister — are you just now returning from the palace?”

“Of course I am.” Feng Qingyin straightened her back and surveyed the two of them from the corner of her eye.

Gaining entry to the palace was no simple matter — without the right connections and relationships, entry would simply be denied. But she was different. Going to the palace for her was as ordinary as eating a meal or lying down to sleep. Well then — envious, weren’t they?

Feng Anya and Feng Xiyu exchanged a glance, and then both burst into unrestrained laughter — laughing so hard that every last pretense of noble-born composure fell away entirely.

Feng Qingyin’s face cycled through shades of purple and red: “What are you laughing at? How dare you laugh at something as sacred as going to the palace!”