He Chang’an pressed his lips together and explained Qing Niao’s situation. The Emperor couldn’t quite understand. “She’s just a palace maid, isn’t she? Worth crying like this over?”

“Her Highness and Qing Niao shared a deep bond.”

“Still no reason to cry herself sick over it,” Yuwen Jie frowned, boarding the carriage. “Pass down the order—no one in the palace is to mention Qing Niao again from now on.”

“Yes.” Eunuch Qin complied, glancing worriedly at the unconscious Empress, sighing softly.

Hua Chun slept for a very long time this time—whether from how hard Yuwen Jie’s strike had been or something else, she didn’t wake for an entire day.

The Emperor grew somewhat panicked, quickly summoning the imperial physician to examine her, but the physician said there was no problem—Her Highness simply didn’t want to wake up.

Pressing his lips together slightly, Yuwen Jie sat by Hua Chun’s bedside, holding the little prince, sighing repeatedly.

“Your mother’s a fool, isn’t she? Even this Emperor’s death might not make her this sad.”

The little prince gazed up at him with watery eyes, uncomprehending.

“Her attention is always on someone else. When will she ever truly look at this Emperor?” the Emperor pouted, sounding rather wronged. “What this Emperor has done for her is truly no less than anyone else’s efforts…”

Had it been a different emperor, Hua Chun would have died who knows how many times over by now. Not to mention anything else, just the fact that something beyond sibling affection had always lingered between her and the Marquis of Gongyu—any other man wouldn’t have tolerated it.

But he’d never made an issue of it, because he knew that even if there was something there, it was entirely one-sided from He Chang’an. Hua Chun, so stubbornly devoted once committed, would be wholeheartedly faithful to him. So he never asked why the Marquis carried the scent of Yangxin Hall’s incense sachets on him, never asked why he’d married Hua Chun’s sister, and never asked why he’d silently sent Hua Xiayu away without a word.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know some things—he simply chose not to dwell on them, because he believed it was all He Chang’an’s feelings alone, with nothing to do with Hua Chun.

In truth, Yuwen Jie was also a jealous man by nature, capable of growing upset over the slightest entanglement between her and other men. But upset as he was, he’d simply regulate himself—he never took it out on her.

This kind of silent tenderness, Hua Chun never noticed—or rather, no one could ever notice it. Yuwen Jie always did such things quietly, without a word, so no one was ever moved by it, no one ever noticed or repaid him for it.

Love came in different forms for different people—though his way might seem a bit foolish, the Emperor had no intention of changing it.

The little prince needed feeding, so Yuwen Jie handed him off, then got up and walked toward Purple Dawn Hall.

Nothing in the palace had changed, except for the Empress being formally installed—yet it had grown as desolate as if there were only one woman in the entire palace. He’d never announced abolishing the six palaces, yet in practice, that was exactly what he was doing.

No consort could ever get an audience with him, nor could they learn any news from Renxuan Palace. They would gradually grow accustomed to living in their scattered halls—whoever made a move, he would silently warn and suppress; if they didn’t change their ways, the palace would simply have one fewer resident.

Doing things this way was rather domineering, yet also simple—a way of repaying Hua Jinghua’s years of loyalty, and also a form of his devotion to Hua Chun.

“Your Majesty.” Eunuch Qin said quietly. “Consort Lü is gravely ill.”

Consort Lü? The Emperor raised an eyebrow, unable to place her for a moment. Eunuch Qin quickly reminded him, “The one Prince Xi sent, the one you once praised, said to be gentle and undemanding.”

Right, back when he’d had that falling out with Hua Chun, there had indeed been a consort by his side—probably this one. The Emperor nodded. Prince Xi had long been confined at White Horse Temple, unable to act, and after Great Liang settled down, he’d had no further reaction. Yuwen Jie had initially intended to send Consort Lü away early on, but seeing how gentle and harmless the woman was, he’d forgotten about it. Now, it seemed, there was finally some movement.

“Since she’s gravely ill, then send her out of the palace.”

Eunuch Qin was startled. “Send her out of the palace?”

“What, is that not allowed?” the Emperor frowned.

“…This servant obeys.”

The Emperor really was one to turn cold in an instant, wasn’t he? Hadn’t he doted on Consort Lü for a while before? Even when Hua Chun had asked about her, he’d only praised her as sensible. Everyone in the harem had thought Consort Lü still had a chance to rise—never expecting that instead of rising, she’d be tossed straight into the ditch.

Shaking his head with a sigh, Eunuch Qin went down to deliver the decree, and the harem was sure to be stirred into turmoil once again.

Yet none of those waves ever reached the gates of Renxuan Palace. After Hua Chun woke up, she simply sat holding the little prince, lost in thought.

Qing Niao was gone. Whenever she thought of it, her chest ached with a dull pain, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Those who do good deeds surely receive good karma, don’t they? Qing Niao had done so much good throughout her life, never anything bad—so in her next life, she should have her own happiness too, shouldn’t she?

Gritting her teeth, Hua Chun called Rui’er in, instructing her to prepare a memorial hall, enshrining Qing Niao’s spirit tablet at White Horse Temple, having people pray for her day and night.

Rui’er went to carry out the order, and Hua Chun continued sitting there in a daze, holding the prince.

From now on, she’d have to live well in this ancient world all on her own. Now she had an emperor for a husband, a son just a month old—by modern standards, that would already count as a happy family. Life shouldn’t be too hard, should it?

Yet, somehow, she still felt an emptiness inside.

The Emperor continued attending court as usual, while Hua Chun spent her days in the palace raising the child, doing yoga on the side to recover her figure. Whenever she had small disputes with the Emperor, she’d sit alone in Renxuan Palace’s side hall, murmuring to Qing Niao’s spirit tablet.

“Does it make sense for the Empress’s palace to enshrine a palace maid’s spirit tablet?” Yuwen Jie found this quite a headache.

“She wasn’t a palace maid, she was the best friend of my whole life,” Hua Chun pouted. “Your Majesty cannot deprive this concubine of her right to talk with a friend.”

Said so seriously, but was this really talking with a friend? It just made Renxuan Palace feel gloomy and ghostly.

Sighing, Yuwen Jie pulled her into his embrace, looking earnestly into her eyes. “Do you feel that what this Emperor has given you isn’t enough, that you still need to talk to Qing Niao?”

Hua Chun nodded recklessly. The Emperor truly hadn’t given her much sense of security—love was such a time-limited thing, how long could it possibly last? What if it disappeared one day? Wouldn’t she still be left with only Qing Niao to confide in?

His face darkening halfway, the Emperor asked, “Can’t you see the current state of this realm, and the state of this palace?”

“I can see it. The realm is at peace, and in the palace, the Empress reigns alone, unrivaled,” Hua Chun chuckled. “Your Majesty treats this concubine very well.”

“Then what exactly are you still dissatisfied about?”

Opening her mouth, Hua Chun shrugged. “This concubine doesn’t know either.”

Women truly were a force more terrifying than war and political struggle combined!

“Come, let’s change clothes,” the Emperor said, standing up. “This Emperor will take you out into the streets to clear your mind.”

Huh? She could go out into the streets? Hua Chun got excited, quickly following him up to change.

Since giving birth, this would be her first time leaving the palace. Yanjing had recovered far faster than she’d imagined, the streets already as bustling and prosperous as before.