In any case, this New Year was spent in a thoroughly warm and cozy atmosphere. Apart from the unrest in the court, the capital remained peaceful with no particularly special incidents. If there was anything special, it was that somehow Jin Er and Lu Zhu had talked things through. Though the young couple bickered daily, those with discerning eyes could see their affection had grown considerably.
Indeed, before the New Year was even over, Jin Er came seeking a favor, asking Xiao Shao to speak to Jiang Ruan about marriage matters. A maid from Jiang Ruan’s side marrying a secret guard from Xiao Shao’s side—if one truly considered status, Lu Zhu would be marrying above her station. Lu Zhu wasn’t born into the household but was a maid bought from outside at the estate. Following Jiang Ruan was already good fortune, making her a second-class maid, and after Bai Zhi’s incident, she filled the vacancy to become a first-class maid. Even so, this didn’t mean she and Jin Er were equals. Jin Er had served under Xiao Shao for many years—within the Jinwei there was indeed hierarchy, and being able to enter Xiao Shao’s inner circle truly counted as being a trusted confidant. Though called a secret guard, he was equivalent to a seventh-rank military officer. Moreover, Jin Er himself was quite handsome, and the Jinwei were well-compensated. With such conditions, in an ordinary family, matchmakers would wear down the doorstep. It was only because Jin Er followed Xiao Shao that he had no such thoughts, and with his parents in their hometown far away, he had fewer romantic entanglements.
However, Prince Jinying’s manor had always been predominantly male—a large group of men confined together. Lu Zhu, such a delicate and charming young lady, clever and sweet-tongued, was quite beloved in the manor. Usually, many servants in the manor came to curry favor with her. After hearing that Lu Zhu and Jin Er’s marriage was settled, they were naturally quite disappointed, thinking that another of the mistress’s maids had been snatched away.
When Lian Qiao mentioned this matter to Jiang Ruan, she was laughing with delight: “One has a temperament like a firecracker, the other is quite slippery—when they clash, they’re bound to argue. Who knows how they took a fancy to each other? It’s really quite amusing.”
Jiang Ruan was organizing newly delivered account books. Hearing this, she glanced at Lian Qiao: “They’ve taken a fancy to each other—I wonder if you’ve found someone to your liking?”
Lian Qiao’s laughter stopped abruptly, and she quickly blushed: “What is Miss saying?” In her nervousness, she reverted to the form of address from before Jiang Ruan’s marriage. Lu Zhu lifted the curtain and, hearing this, laughed cheerfully: “Naturally there’s someone she fancies. I heard that Ye Feng, that night guard, spent half the night under the willow tree in the manor playing the flute yesterday.”
This became another topic of conversation in Prince Jinying’s manor. The manor’s young master Xiao Shao was a stuffy gourd, but any of his subordinate guards could be pulled out as experts in romance, with endless tricks for pleasing young ladies. Even Ye Feng, who usually appeared steady, had learned from those literati and poets, playing “Phoenix Seeking Phoenix” under the willow tree for half the night, facing precisely the direction of Lian Qiao’s room.
Lian Qiao was both embarrassed and annoyed, stamping her foot: “Can’t… can’t out-talk Miss, better to go outside!” She then ran out of the room. Lu Zhu stood behind with hands on her hips, laughing heartily: “Getting angry over this? What’s there to be angry about?”
Lian Qiao had been raised in the manor after all—though spirited, she still observed propriety and would naturally be shy hearing about romantic matters. Lu Zhu was bolder—having wandered streets and alleys from a young age, she’d absorbed more worldly airs and didn’t care about such things. Seeing Lu Zhu’s appearance, Jiang Ruan felt momentarily dazed, remembering when she first met this child during the first year after her rebirth. Back then, she was lonely and helpless at the estate, and this child, out of kindness, insisted on following her. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed—her enemies were dead or wounded, and she lived increasingly gloriously. Fortunately, Lu Zhu hadn’t followed her in vain and had finally found happiness.
Jiang Ruan set down her teacup and pulled Lu Zhu to her side. She put away her smile and looked seriously at the laughing young girl before her: “Lu Zhu, have you thought it through? Once it’s settled, it’s him?”
“Him” naturally referred to Jin Er. Whenever a maid was involved, the master would symbolically ask the maid’s opinion before arranging a marriage. Lu Zhu lowered her head, then immediately looked up and smiled at Jiang Ruan, showing a mouthful of white teeth in a brilliant smile: “It’s him, Miss.”
Jiang Ruan nodded. Though Jin Er appeared unreliable and usually acted like a playboy young master, such men experienced in romantic venues better understood what they truly wanted. Moreover, Lu Zhu wasn’t foolish—there was no reason for Jin Er to bully her. However, Jin Er proposing this marriage was somewhat hasty. Who knows what Jin Er was thinking? Since both sides agreed, Jin Er had also written home to notify his parents in Jiangnan. Lu Zhu’s indenture contract was in Jiang Ruan’s hands, so naturally Jiang Ruan and Xiao Shao would make the decision to first arrange their engagement. They would wait until late summer next year to hold the wedding.
“I’ll let you marry in grand style,” Jiang Ruan said. “You have no parents, so leave the dowry matter to me.”
Lu Zhu was stunned, looking up incredulously to meet Jiang Ruan’s gaze. Jiang Ruan smiled slightly at her, and Lu Zhu’s eyes immediately reddened: “Miss, how could this servant dare…”
“There’s nothing to dare or not dare. I spoke clearly back then—since you were willing to risk your life to follow me on a path with an unknown outcome, now it’s time for rewards. Even gamblers get winnings—consider this your profit.”
What kind of words were these? Lu Zhu felt like laughing yet also like crying. She knew Jiang Ruan was usually distant with people. Even with the most personal maids like Bai Zhi and Lian Qiao, who had originally been her personal attendants, she seemed to have her own secrets and wasn’t particularly warm, unlike other masters who always smiled and joked. Following Jiang Ruan, Lu Zhu had only seen danger—Jiang Ruan fought violence with violence and always seemed cold. However, she was extremely protective by nature, just not good at expressing it. She was actually… a very gentle person. Lu Zhu thought tearfully, while Jiang Ruan smiled helplessly—she couldn’t control Lu Zhu’s thoughts.
Just then, Jin Yi entered and handed Jiang Ruan a letter from the palace. Jiang Ruan dismissed Lu Zhu and began reading. It was a letter from Xuan Pei that didn’t contain much—first wishing her a prosperous New Year, then a string of complaints about being stuck in the palace unable to see Jiang Ruan, lamenting the restrictions of his prince’s status, and finally mentioning that the Emperor was in a bad mood recently and the palace atmosphere was rather gloomy, so it would be better not to enter the palace. After reading the letter, Jiang Ruan immediately burned it in the nearby candle flame, but her heart couldn’t calm for a long time. The Emperor wasn’t in a bad mood but was gravely ill—she’d learned this from Xiao Shao. This child Xuan Pei used to refuse to speak when wronged, and after rebirth, his temperament had changed so much he was hard to read. The more he avoided mentioning palace affairs, the more suspicious it seemed. Jiang Ruan stared at the ashes burning in the candle flame, slowly lost in thought.
…
Meanwhile, in a quiet mansion somewhere in the capital, a gray-clothed figure stood by the window, also throwing the paper in his hands into the dancing candle flame. The flame quickly consumed the yellowed paper, which seemed made of something special, carrying a strange fragrant scent. After a while, he slowly curved his red lips: “So that’s how it is.”
“Sir, the Saintess’s decree hasn’t arrived yet,” a subordinate inquired.
Yuan Chuan smiled: “No need.”
The subordinate was stunned, then saw the gray-clothed man suddenly reach up to remove his own veil, revealing his full face. Though calling it a full face wasn’t quite accurate—he wore half a mask painted with a grotesque, fierce ghost face. The exposed half was quite handsome. Such a masked face should have given off mysterious beauty, but appearing before them, while mysterious, it had no beauty—all destroyed by a pair of azure eyes. These azure eyes were narrow and fox-like, but on a human face, they resembled a demon, giving people an inexplicable sense of dread—a very sinister feeling. The subordinate shivered and quickly lowered his head, not daring to meet Yuan Chuan’s gaze. Yuan Chuan didn’t look at him, slowly saying: “The Saintess has already entered the capital.”
The subordinate’s head shot up, quite incredulous: “This…” When Yuan Chuan entered the capital, the Saintess hadn’t come. Now, without any mention of this, how had she suddenly arrived in the Great Jin Dynasty’s capital? While the subordinate was still speculating, those fox-like azure eyes glanced at him lightly, making his heart shiver and abandoning all thoughts. Yuan Chuan slowly smiled again—his lips were red as if painted with fine rouge, even more delicate than a woman’s, giving an indescribable ghostly charm when he smiled. “Is the Saintess’s decree something you can casually speculate about?”
“Wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t dare, this humble one wouldn’t dare,” the subordinate immediately broke out in cold sweat, hearing the person above smile slightly: “Really, considering this is your first offense, I’ll spare you.”
Just as the man was about to express gratitude, he suddenly felt a chill in his chest. Looking down, he saw a silver gleam at his heart—a small, exquisite curved blade the size of a thumb had accurately pierced his heart. His eyes widened, his face began turning black, and within moments he collapsed, his blood dark black, obviously poisoned as well. Yuan Chuan smiled coldly, slowly looking out the window again, then sighed—whether in joy or sorrow was unclear—the sound particularly eerie in the quiet courtyard with a fresh corpse: “Human life is but grass and weeds.” He slowly smiled again, a strange light flashing in his azure eyes as he looked into the void, murmuring to himself: “You—how much longer can you live?”
…
In the palace.
In the imperial study, thick stacks of memorials piled on the Emperor’s desk. His body grew increasingly frail, slowing his review of documents considerably, yet daily affairs large and small from across the nation never ceased, accumulating ever higher in a heart-stopping sight. Eunuch Li timely offered hot tea: “Your Majesty, please take care of your health and rest a while.”
The Emperor shook his head, then felt somewhat hungry, frowning: “Who was that just now?”
“It was Imperial Concubine Dong,” Eunuch Li quickly replied. “She came to bring Your Majesty lotus seed porridge.”
After Wang Lian’er and Jiang Dan successively disappeared from the palace, the new batch of beauties wasn’t particularly outstanding. The remaining Mu Xiruo had a cold temperament and wouldn’t actively serve others. One day, the Emperor happened to see Imperial Concubine Dong in the garden and remembered this legitimate daughter of the Capital Magistrate’s family.
The Capital Magistrate’s legitimate daughter being sent to the palace was rather intriguing. First, most women sent to the palace sought wealth and glory, but the Capital Magistrate position wouldn’t advance much further in this lifetime, hardly needing to trade a daughter for career security. Second, this Imperial Concubine Dong never deliberately sought favor and was quite unremarkable. Had the Emperor not encountered her by chance that day, she might have continued in obscurity in the deep palace.
Now it was good—Imperial Concubine Dong had a somewhat dull personality but made excellent porridge. Her lotus seed porridge was refreshing and delicious, and the Emperor often requested it, making Imperial Concubine Dong one of the women closest to the Emperor.
The Emperor waved his hand: “Bring it here.”
Eunuch Li instructed the young eunuchs outside to bring in the lotus seed porridge Imperial Concubine Dong had prepared.
Meanwhile, in the deep palace corridors, a woman in brocade robes walked alone. The eunuchs and palace maids who saw her respectfully greeted her. This Imperial Concubine Dong had initially seemed unfavored and suffered much bullying, but who knew she could now approach the Emperor closely? As they say, fortune turns—now those who had given her trouble trembled with fear. However, the richly dressed woman seemed not to notice at all, her gaze somewhat profound.
Returning to her side palace courtyard, Dong Ying’er dismissed all eunuchs and palace maids. She sat before her dressing mirror and took out a wooden box from the bottom of a cabinet. Inside lay a fresh lotus pod dotted with something resembling honey. The Emperor’s appetite had been light recently—he couldn’t eat heavily flavored foods. Lotus seeds clear heat but taste bitter, which many people couldn’t tolerate, especially the Son of Heaven’s refined palate. The lotus seed hearts had to be pickled in honey to remove their bitterness, making the porridge more fragrant and sweet. But… Dong Ying’er reached for a sachet at her waist, extracting some white powder that carried a strange fragrance. Once sprinkled on the lotus pod, it was immediately covered by fresh honey, only making it smell more fragrant. Her ears seemed to echo with a young eunuch’s flattering words: “Imperial Concubine Dong’s lotus seed porridge is excellent—His Majesty can’t do without it daily now. This skill surpasses even the imperial kitchen’s head chefs. This servant believes His Majesty will only grow closer to Your Ladyship day by day, unable to part from you.”
Dong Ying’er put away the sachet, her gaze falling on the lotus pod that appeared no different from others, her lips slowly curving into a smile. But the smile was somewhat stiff, as if someone had forcibly pulled her skin to create it, looking strangely unnatural.
The Emperor would naturally become inseparable from her—not only inseparable but increasingly dependent, or rather, dependent not on her but on the lotus seed porridge she made. Something that could create addiction without detection—even the most skilled imperial physicians couldn’t discern it, thinking only that the Emperor enjoyed her porridge. To avoid suspicion, she naturally wouldn’t make porridge daily—anything would work as long as it could addict the Emperor.
She slowly clutched her skirt, remembering words someone in the palace had told her earlier: The General’s Manor intended to arrange marriage between Master Jiang and Miss Zhao, currently discussing exchanging birth charts. Master Jiang was Jiang Xinzhi, Miss Zhao was Zhao Jin. Dong Ying’er suddenly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but couldn’t contain herself, sweeping everything before her to the floor. The waiting palace maids outside were startled and about to enter: “Your Ladyship!”
“Get out!” Dong Ying’er shouted angrily, and those outside immediately fell silent, not daring to move. She looked at the shattered porcelain pieces on the floor, a flash of malice in her eyes.
In this world, why did some people have such good fortune? With similar backgrounds, what was she lacking compared to others, yet she was thrown into this deep palace to gradually wither? Why? If so, better to descend to hell together—at least it wouldn’t be so lonely.
…
In a certain mansion in Jiangnan with black walls and white tiles, exquisitely built in an elegant style, clearly a wealthy household. At this moment, a young servant rushed in from outside, shouting: “Madam, Madam!”
The woman sitting in the main hall was kind and gentle, only in her forties, appearing dignified and virtuous. Though aged, one could tell she must have been a beauty in her youth. Wearing a honey-colored silk jacket and skirt, she smiled and scolded: “Running so urgently—don’t trip over your tongue. Speak slowly.”
The servant smiled embarrassedly and pulled out a letter from his bosom: “Madam, a letter from the Young Master!”
“Er Lang sent a letter?” The woman immediately stood up, her face showing uncontainable joy: “Let me see quickly.”
The servant respectfully presented it with both hands. The woman eagerly opened the letter and began reading quickly, scanning through it rapidly. After finishing, her face showed both reproach and amusement. The surrounding maids and servants, seeing her expression, were curious: “Madam, how is Second Young Master?”
“This child,” the woman touched her chest, “doesn’t send a single letter all year, truly not keeping this birth mother in his thoughts. Such a major matter, and he makes the decision himself, only now writing to mention it—really…”
The servant attending her tea was even more confused, asking with some puzzlement: “What matter does Madam speak of? Has Second Young Master been promoted?” Since it was called a major matter and Madam showed no sadness, it must be a promotion. Thinking this, the servant also smiled: “If so, it’s truly a great joy worth celebrating.”
“It is a joyous occasion, but not a promotion,” the woman also smiled. “Er Lang asked the Prince to arrange a marriage for him, writing home just to mention it.”
“This… this…” the servant asked: “Which family’s young lady might it be?”
“A first-class maid by the Princess’s side,” the woman smiled.
“A maid? Then she hasn’t escaped bondage yet. With Second Young Master’s status, perhaps…” The servant chose her words carefully, watching the woman’s expression.
Seeing her manner, the woman laughed again: “I know what you’re thinking. You feel my Er Lang is wronged, but since the Prince showed our family kindness—without the Prince, where would we have such good days? We’d long be buried under earth. Our family isn’t official—we’re just merchants. Though the girl’s status isn’t high, it’s not exactly mismatched.”
“Madam,” the servant was still unwilling: “Though we’re not officials, we’re still a prominent family in Jiangnan. With Second Young Master’s status, what proper family’s daughter couldn’t be found? Why…”
The woman slowly looked at her, and the servant, knowing she’d misspoken, became uneasy. The woman sighed: “What status do you think Er Lang has? Er Lang willingly serves by the Prince’s side. All these years, letters are extremely rare—he must be doing dangerous work. With such danger, which pampered young lady would marry him? Moreover, this marriage was personally requested by Er Lang before the Prince—Er Lang himself is satisfied. Since the child is satisfied, what reason do I, as his mother, have to interfere? Er Lang serves under the Prince, so the Prince can make decisions for him. If the Prince approves this marriage, I agree too. I believe the master won’t object either. Without trustworthiness, one cannot stand—the Princess’s people can’t be wrong.” Thinking of that composed, cool young man in black, a smile appeared on her face.
With the woman being so reasonable, the servant said no more. Besides, the woman’s words weren’t wrong, so the servant gradually smiled too: “Then it’s a joyous occasion. If the marriage is arranged early, Madam will soon have another grandson.”
“Not even a character written yet, and you’re already talking so excitedly,” the woman chided with a smile, her face growing more joyful. Just then, a voice from outside said: “What is Mother saying so happily? Let daughter-in-law listen and be happy too.”
“Eldest Young Madam.” The maids and servants smiled in greeting. A young woman entered from outside with a married woman’s hairstyle—the manor’s eldest daughter-in-law. The woman smiled: “Speaking of your second brother’s marriage. You’ve come at the right time—let’s discuss it together.” The woman suddenly paused, looking behind the young woman at a girl in a pink jacket and skirt, about sixteen or seventeen years old. Hearing this, she looked up and smiled, curtsying to the woman: “Greetings to Madam.”
“This is…” the woman was somewhat puzzled.
The young woman smiled, taking the pink-clothed girl’s hand: “Mother, what perfect timing—I was just about to tell you about this. Do you remember this young lady? This is Miss Liao from the Dingxi Liao family.”
The girl also smiled slightly, seeming somewhat shy, lifting her face clearly visible now—she was quite beautiful with an elegant temperament, like a newly blooming flower bud: “Liao Meng greets Madam.”
The woman’s hand shook, and her teacup immediately overturned and fell to the ground.