Noble Consort Ning listened, assuming that the palace staff had not served him well, which was why he came to the Cold Palace to ask her to make soup. She quickly smoothed her hair and said, “This guilty concubine will go at once.”
After bowing deeply, she followed the palace servants toward the imperial kitchen.
Li Huailin watched her retreating figure, knowing he should say something kind and treat her better. Yet, seeing her seemingly untroubled demeanor, he felt it unnecessary. Surely, she wasn’t too upset.
He withdrew his gaze and returned to He Xi Palace to wait.
The soup in the pot bubbled with milky white froth as Ning Wanwei stood by, slightly distracted.
“Which consort in the palace would personally come to make soup?” a cook whispered outside.
Another cook replied, “I heard it was the Emperor’s order that the Noble Consort must make the soup before returning to He Xi Palace.”
“Isn’t this just a way to humiliate someone…”
Indeed, it was quite humiliating. Without explanation, she was stripped of favor and sent to the Cold Palace. Ning Wanwei still didn’t know what she had done wrong. After much thought, she could only conclude that the Emperor was venting his anger on her, especially since the Princess of Danyang’s faction was now openly opposing the court. She had once been favored because of the Princess, and now she was implicated because of her.
Regarding her as a person, the Emperor had no feelings.
Seeing that the time was right, Noble Consort Ning took a cloth to wrap the clay pot, removed it from the stove, and poured the soup.
“Madam,” a cook said cautiously from behind, “let me do it. Your hand…”
Noble Consort Ning smiled gently, shook her head, and carried the soup, following the palace servants to He Xi Palace.
The distance from the imperial kitchen to He Xi Palace was quite far. By the time she arrived with the steaming soup, it was covered with a light dusting of snow and only lukewarm. She entered the hall, bowed, and then served the soup, testing it with a slight frown.
Li Huailin, reclining on the soft couch, watched her, feeling immensely reassured, his expression much softer.
“What? Doesn’t it taste good?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It’s a bit cold.”
The Emperor sat up, took the spoon from her hand, and sipped a mouthful, his eyes inadvertently catching sight of her hand.
Her delicate fingers bore a bright red blister, filled with yellow fluid.
His movements froze, and Li Huailin squinted, speaking harshly, “How clumsy can you be?”
Noble Consort Ning’s face turned pale. She pulled her sleeve over her hand and explained softly, “It’s a bit cold, and my hands aren’t as nimble as they used to be.”
Li Huailin was at a loss for words.
He was concerned for her, but she took his words as criticism.
Turning his head, he instructed a maid to bring ointment for burns. Li Huailin slowly drank the lukewarm soup, speaking quietly, “Apply the ointment yourself.”
“Thank you for your grace!” Noble Consort Ning bowed, turned aside to avoid his gaze, and applied the ointment.
It was the same He Xi Palace, but with her there, it felt completely different from when Consort Shu was present. Li Huailin couldn’t quite pinpoint the difference, but watching her, his tense body relaxed.
Feeling a stir in his heart, Li Huailin set the bowl down and reached out to pull her closer.
Ning Wanwei was still applying ointment. Caught off guard, she fell into his arms, instinctively raising her hand to avoid smearing the ointment on his dragon robe.
Li Huailin snorted softly, biting her neck.
“Don’t…” she said in a panic. “This guilty concubine hasn’t changed clothes or bathed!”
“What does it matter?” he murmured.
Ning Wanwei blinked slowly, feeling his warmth, her nose tingling.
“According to the rules, a consort must bathe before serving the Emperor.”
“In this palace, I am the rule.”
Her body trembled slightly as she lay with him on the soft couch, instinctively reaching out to soothe his back.
Sensing her touch, Li Huailin did not calm down. Instead, his actions became more intense, like a suddenly agitated beast, roughly tearing open her collar. Ning Wanwei followed his lead, letting him do as he wished, her eyes filled with confusion and a hint of bewilderment.
The Emperor’s thoughts were truly hard to fathom. One moment she was in the Cold Palace, the next she was favored by him. Had he missed her after a few days apart?
Caught in the whirlwind of emotions, Ning Wanwei pondered this question, feeling both hopeful and anxious.
The next day, the Emperor went to court. Noble Consort Ning flipped through the imperial calendar, her gaze falling on yesterday’s date, and she suddenly understood.
The nineteenth day of the second month is the birthday of the Princess of Danyang.
It wasn’t because he missed her; it was because he missed the Princess.
Ning Wanwei stood in silence for a long time, then smiled.
It was fine. At least when he missed his royal sister, she could help comfort him a little.
During the morning court, the ministers noticed the Emperor was in a good mood. Although he was often distracted, he wore a constant smile, a stark contrast to his previous cold demeanor.
“In the past month, the court has lost three thousand soldiers but captured seven cities in Pingling,” reported Situ Jing. “Conflicts have erupted in Ziyang and Danyang. Three days ago, there was unrest in Ziyang’s main city, which was quickly suppressed, but it shows that the people are also dissatisfied with Ziyang Jun.”
“Very good,” Li Huailin smiled.
Liu Yunlie listened to Situ Jing’s self-congratulation but said nothing.
The Ziyang unrest was orchestrated by their people, not a genuine public sentiment, so there was nothing to celebrate. The current advantage in the Pingling battle was due to the incompetence of the feudal lords’ commander. Once Jiang Xuanjin took command, the situation would be uncertain.
Fortunately, Li Huaiyu was about to give birth, keeping Jiang Xuanjin occupied, and giving them time to prepare a strategy.
However, Situ Jing did nothing but seek credit.
Liu Yunlie shook his head silently, sighing. He neither reminded the Emperor nor refuted Situ Jing, his sharp eyes leisurely surveying the court.
In the early spring breeze of March, Qi Jin said the Madam was due any day now.
Jiang Xuanjin stared at Li Huaiyu’s belly, having done so for half an hour. Chengxu, unable to bear it, whispered, “My lord, you don’t need to be so tense.”
Being tense wouldn’t help!
“Which eye of yours sees me tense?” Jiang Xuanjin coldly lifted his chin.
Li Huaiyu chuckled, her fingers brushing his damp palm, her eyes bright. “Indeed, our lord remains calm even before a thousand troops. How could he be nervous over such a small matter?”
Teasingly, she opened his hand and gently wiped it with a cloth.
Jiang Xuanjin was a bit annoyed. “Don’t mind me.”
He looked fierce, but Li Huaiyu laughed, drying his hand and intertwining her fingers with his. “You haven’t had lunch yet. You should eat something.”
His heart felt like it was tied with a string, hanging in his throat. Jiang Xuanjin shook his head. “Not hungry.”
Li Huaiyu was amused and exasperated. “If I don’t give birth, will you not eat?”
“No,” he frowned.
His freshly dried palm was already sweaty again. Li Huaiyu sighed, asking Chengxu to bring food, coaxing him softly, “I’m fine. You eat a little, and then I’ll listen to you and rest for a while. How about that?”
She hadn’t been sleeping well lately, the dark circles under her eyes growing more pronounced. Jiang Xuanjin had tried everything, but she couldn’t sleep for more than an hour.
Now that she had spoken, even without an appetite, he nodded.
Murong Qi peeked in from the outer room, clicking his tongue. “No wonder.”
No wonder Ziyang Jun married Li Huaiyu. The Princess of Danyang might be rough with others, but she was truly gentle with Ziyang Jun, comforting him even when she was uncomfortable.
However, with the fierce battle in Pingling, Jiang Xuanjin still sat here with his wife, showing remarkable composure.
“Hey, why aren’t you eating celery?” Huaiyu fed him a piece, raising an eyebrow with a smile. “Is Ziyang Jun picky?”
Jiang Xuanjin looked displeased at the green and white stalk. “Tastes bad.”
“No, it’s delicious. And Qi Jin said it’s good for your health.”
“I don’t want it.”
So stubborn. Huaiyu pouted, about to say more when her belly tightened.
She paused, realizing something, and turned to Qingsi. “Have Physician Qi come over.”
Jiang Xuanjin’s jaw tightened, gripping her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just have her check my pulse,” Li Huaiyu said lightly, smiling at him. “But I suddenly want some jade bean buns.”
Those were only available at Lu Jingxing’s restaurant. Chengxu was about to offer to buy them when the Madam tugged on the lord’s hand. “Can you go get them for me?”
Normally, Jiang Xuanjin would have gone out immediately, but now he stared at her, his grip tightening, eyes filled with panic.
“Hey, don’t worry,” knowing she hadn’t fooled him, Huaiyu laughed. “I’m fine. Everything’s okay!”
“…”
“Even if I’m about to give birth, you don’t need that expression… Okay, I was wrong. No jade bean buns. Just hold my hand, don’t be afraid.”
“…”
“Jiang Jie, I’m having a baby, not dying. You, the mighty Ziyang Jun, can’t be this scared!”
“…”
Murong Qi listened outside, his mouth twitching. Who was giving birth here? The pregnant one was fearless, while the non-pregnant one was pale with fright.
“Lord Baihua, it’s inconvenient here. Please wait outside,” Chengxu hurriedly said.
Murong Qi shrugged, stepping outside to wait. Soon, people from the residence began arriving.
The physician entered with a solemn expression, carrying a medicine box. Qingsi and Xu Chuniang followed with supplies, and a line of midwives trailed behind. Ziyang Jun remained inside, never leaving.
Murong Qi leaned against a stone pillar, watching the silent crowd in the courtyard. Suddenly, he realized the Princess of Danyang wasn’t pitiful at all. Though criticized by many, she had so many people who cared for her, unlike him, praised by all of Eastern Jin, yet alone.
He chuckled, glancing at the man standing at the front of the courtyard.
That seemed to be the Princess’s close friend. Every time he saw him, he wore a snow-white robe, though the embroidery varied.
Some said he was a merchant, but Murong Qi thought otherwise. Merchants were usually plump, wearing robes adorned with copper coin patterns. This man looked elegant, like a nobleman from a chaotic world, with no trace of vulgarity.
Now he stood outside, listening to the sounds from inside, his face tense. After a long silence, he suddenly clasped his hands together and bowed to the sky.
His robes fluttered, exuding unmatched grace. Even with furrowed brows, Murong Qi thought he looked incredibly handsome.
Instinctively, she mimicked his bow to the sky.
Even if she disliked Danyang, she had to pray for her safe delivery. As long as she lived, there would be another chance to fight.
Clutching the sandalwood prayer beads on her wrist, Li Huaiyu continued to soothe the anxious Jiang Xuanjin. But as the pain intensified, her face paled, and she could no longer speak.
Jiang Xuanjin pried open her fingers, took the prayer beads, and placed his hand in hers.
Huaiyu followed the midwife’s instructions, conserving her strength. Seeing his actions, she couldn’t help but say, “Are you doing this on purpose? You know I can’t bear to pinch you.”
“No.” His eyes were tense, his whole body exuding unease. Jiang Xuanjin forced himself to sit still. “A few days ago, you had a nightmare.”
The only time she slept for more than half an hour, she murmured in her sleep, repeating the words she had said to him in the death row interrogation room, tears streaming down her face.
His heart ached.
He no longer wanted to hold her accountable for what she owed him, but he wanted to repay what he owed her.
As the pain in her belly intensified, Huaiyu panted, breathing as the midwife instructed, suppressing her fear.
She couldn’t panic. Though she had never given birth and was indeed scared, he was more frightened than she was. If she panicked, he would surely go mad. But… as much as she thought this when the pain became severe, her pupils began to dilate.
“My lord, please step outside,” the midwife urged, knowing the rules. “The birthing room is heavy with blood and unclean…”
Jiang Xuanjin’s cold gaze fixed on her. “What’s unclean?”
The midwife choked, too frightened by his expression to speak again.
Childbirth took a long time. It usually had nothing to do with men. The masters and young lords of each household would wait outside, drinking tea. The more indifferent ones would go out, stroll around, and return to hold the child. Ziyang Jun, with his noble status, was said to have many taboos. They thought to give him an excuse to leave, but he truly stayed.
“Master…” Seeing her in increasing pain, her face contorted, Qingsi’s eyes reddened, whispering, “Today is March 27th.”
March 27th, in the eighth year of Daxing, was a day suitable for funerals. Someone drank poison, full of resentment, and went to the underworld.
But in the ninth year of Daxing, March 27th was auspicious, with no taboos. Everything was favorable.
In a daze, Huaiyu heard this, her lips curling into a pale smile, reaching out to grasp the person beside her.
“I once… once hated you, so when I told you to live a long life, it was with resentment,” she murmured, recalling something. “But now it’s different. Now I don’t hate you.”
Jiang Xuanjin’s pupils contracted.
The face before him was drenched in sweat, withered to the point of wilting, yet she said to him, “My lord must live a long life.”