The imperial study fell into complete silence, incense curling gently through the air. Behind the thin gauze curtains, father and son both remained absorbed in the chess game, saying nothing.
This had been a habit ingrained in Jun Beiyue since childhood—even when facing his own father, he remained utterly silent during a match.
He knew perfectly well that leaving this study today would not be so simple, yet even now he could focus entirely on the game before him, his cold eyes composed, his expression serious, his fair, slender fingers gently pressing down a black stone before withdrawing his hand.
“Are you certain?” Emperor Tianhui suddenly smiled, asking.
Jun Beiyue said nothing, merely nodding silently.
“Heh, you’ve always had this temperament, ever since you were small—once you’ve made up your mind, even knowing full well it’s the wrong choice, you’d rather die than change it. Look, you’ve walked right into a trap again.”
Emperor Tianhui smiled, placing down a white stone that immediately formed an aggressive pincer formation.
Jun Beiyue still said nothing, pondering briefly before placing another black stone. Emperor Tianhui smiled again, pursuing with another white stone. “See, I warned you just now, and you still haven’t changed course. Keep going like this, and you’re bound to lose without question!”
Yet Jun Beiyue paid him no mind whatsoever, black stones following in rapid succession. Emperor Tianhui’s brow furrowed slightly, placing down another white stone.
The pace between the two suddenly quickened, black and white stones clashing back and forth, exchange after exchange. Emperor Tianhui’s brow knitted tighter and tighter, his gaze growing sharper and more severe, fury finally impossible to conceal, while Jun Beiyue’s expression remained unchanged, placing his stones with calm, unhurried composure.
In a matter of moments, the entire board was filled, and both men stopped.
Only then did Jun Beiyue lift his head, saying flatly, “Father Emperor, your son will not lose. It’s simply a dead position.”
“Crack!” Emperor Tianhui erupted in fury, slamming his palm down on the table before violently sweeping every last stone off the board, sending them clattering and scattering across the floor.
Jun Beiyue rose to his feet, standing silently to one side, saying nothing.
“Will you change your mind or not!” Emperor Tianhui roared. Throughout their entire game, every word he’d spoken had carried hidden meaning, every one pointing directly at the matter of the consort selection at the Han residence—how could Beiyue possibly fail to understand?
Jun Beiyue looked down at the scattered, chaotic mess of stones across the floor, saying flatly, “It’s already settled. The stones are scattered. How could it be changed now?”
“You—!” Emperor Tianhui’s fury reached its peak, finally making his point explicit. “If you don’t like Han Xi’er, you may simply take her as a secondary consort instead—this father won’t make things difficult for you over that. But Han Ziqing—first, she’s no longer a virgin, and second, she isn’t even a legitimate daughter. Must you truly marry a ruined woman and bring shame upon this imperial family?”
“Yes,” Jun Beiyue said, his voice calm, yet carrying an unmistakable stubborn edge.
“Why!” Emperor Tianhui demanded coldly.
“I’m interested in her,” Jun Beiyue answered flatly.
“You—!” Emperor Tianhui, unable to contain his rage any longer, immediately gave the order. “Someone, come flog him for me—thirty strokes… no, flog him hard, flog him until he changes his answer!”
“Crack…” The doors of the imperial study were immediately slammed shut, and before long, the sound of “crack, crack, crack…” rang out continuously, growing louder and louder, striking fear into the hearts of every eunuch and palace maid standing outside.
One had to understand—never once, in all his years, had the Emperor ever laid a hand on Prince Yao before this!
Meanwhile, at this very moment, Ziqing had only just arrived at Yiqing Palace, where various palace consorts sat accompanying Consort Yi in lighthearted conversation, the whole room abuzz with chattering voices, exceedingly noisy.
Hongyi did not accompany Ziqing inside, instead leaving her alone to follow an unfamiliar palace maid toward the entrance of the main hall.
Seated in the place of honor was a woman of about thirty years of age, with long, elegant brows sweeping toward her temples, exuding an air of refined, regal elegance—her lavish attire alone setting her distinctly apart from everyone else present. This was none other than the Second Prince’s birth mother, Consort Yi, the reigning favorite of the six palaces.
Seated to her right was a young woman of graceful, quiet demeanor, her smile never quite revealing her teeth—unmistakably Consort Yi’s own niece, the eldest daughter of General Ouyang’s household, and the Second Prince’s consort, Ouyang Jingqin.
The moment Ziqing stepped across the threshold, she sensed hidden weapons flying toward her. A flicker of coldness passed through her eyes, though outwardly she merely raised a hand as if to wipe away sweat, effortlessly catching several extremely fine silver needles into her sleeve—yet the surrounding commotion grew even greater, clearly signaling several times that number of needles still incoming.
She hadn’t even properly entered the prince’s household, and danger had already found her—it seemed being Princess Consort of Prince Yao truly wouldn’t be easy.
Ziqing deliberately stumbled a step, falling…