Three days had passed since returning to the Prince’s residence, and still there had been no word of Jun Beiyue. Rumors spread widely outside that he had defied the Emperor’s wishes, insisting on marrying the “ruined concubine’s daughter,” and had been placed under house arrest within the palace as punishment.
These past few days, no one had come to trouble Ziqing. With Hongyi looking after things, Ziqing had enjoyed peace and quiet within the residence, undisturbed by anyone.
For three days straight, she had shut herself away in the courtyard to train. The intense training regimen had noticeably strengthened her physique and improved her flexibility as well.
Just as the lanterns were being lit for the evening, Vermillion Bird Avenue bustled with people coming and going, lively and full of activity.
Ziqing had already been sitting here for an entire afternoon, apparently waiting for someone. Hongyi waited quietly at her side, not daring to even ask why.
Having spent several days together now, she’d come to realize this mistress of hers was also the type who preferred silence and disliked being disturbed—no easier to serve than her master, in truth.
Finally, as the inn prepared to close for the night, Ziqing still hadn’t moved, silently gazing out the window toward the brightly lit direction of the imperial palace, lost in thought over something.
“Honored guest, the shop is closing up for the night. Perhaps… you could return tomorrow?” the waiter said politely.
Only then did Ziqing snap out of her thoughts and rise to leave. Hongyi hurried after her, unable to hold back a quiet question. “Princess Consort, are you waiting for someone?”
Ziqing didn’t answer, a trace of disappointment in her eyes—but the moment she stepped out the front door, she stopped short. There, standing at the entrance, was the same little beggar girl from before, her small, thin frame standing perfectly straight, head bowed low.
“Were you waiting for me?” Ziqing lifted her veil and smiled—her first smile in many days, leaving even Hongyi stunned. So this mistress of hers could smile after all.
The little beggar girl looked up, and seeing Ziqing’s eyes curve into a warm smile directed at her, found herself momentarily struck by how lovely it was, stunned into stillness. She had come to wait every single night, standing right at this gate, and tonight she had finally found this young lady again.
From the gossip she’d overheard at the inn that day, she’d learned this was the Second Miss of the Prime Minister’s household, and from the talk spreading through every street and alley these past days, she knew this young lady was about to become Prince Yao’s consort. She’d assumed she would never come back here again.
“Yes,” the little beggar girl answered promptly.
“Why?” Ziqing asked. Hadn’t her own attitude that day been rather harsh?
“I owe you ten taels of silver. Once I’ve paid it back, I’ll leave,” the little beggar girl answered honestly.
“How do you plan to repay it?” Ziqing asked, raising an eyebrow.
“By serving you—taking the scoldings, taking the beatings, shouldering the blame in your place,” the little beggar girl said, quite seriously.
Ziqing couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Very well. From now on, I’ll call you Shiliang. Come with me.”
Over the following days, Ziqing didn’t leave the residence at all, shutting herself away in the most secluded courtyard of Prince Yao’s estate. Each morning she trained—a few simple wooden posts were more than enough to keep her arms occupied for an entire morning.
Shiliang waited nearby, having thoroughly washed away every trace of her beggar days, now dressed as a plain blue-robed maidservant, clean and neat in appearance. Hongyi had made things quite clear—from today onward, she was a maidservant of the household, assigned specifically to serve the Princess Consort.
Ziqing walked over, gave Shiliang a once-over, seemed quite satisfied, and without saying much, drank a sip of tea before returning to her training.
Shiliang stood nearby, watching earnestly. “Miss, rest a while.” She knew nothing of martial arts, but even she found the intensity of this training frightening to watch.
“Didn’t Hongyi tell you not to waste breath on chatter?” Ziqing shot back.
“She did. But Miss’s hand is bleeding. Shiliang really must bandage it—please rest a moment before continuing, Miss.”
Shiliang looked her straight in the eye, her still-youthful face wearing that same earnest, stubborn expression, one that inexplicably tugged at the heart.
Ziqing felt a small jolt in her chest and smiled again—a rare thing indeed. “Fine.”
The two of them, mistress and servant, fell into silence. Shiliang carefully bandaged Ziqing’s wound; her hands had bled from striking the wooden posts, though such a minor injury barely registered to her.
Watching Shiliang’s earnest, focused expression, warmth spread through her chest. Could it be that someone existed who cared for her this genuinely, without any ulterior motive at all?
Suddenly, Hongyi came hurrying over. “Princess Consort, the Second Prince Consort has come to call, and she’s brought her younger sister Ouyang Jingshi along!”
Ziqing wasn’t surprised, only curious. “Ouyang Jingshi has come as well?”
“Princess Consort, this Second Miss of the General’s household is famously spoiled, yet she’s remarkably favored by His Majesty. If she hadn’t come from the General’s household, she’d surely have been matched to our Prince long ago! There was a time when wherever the Prince went, she was sure to follow!” Hongyi reported honestly.
Ziqing paid this no mind, saying flatly, “Still no word of the Prince?”
“None. But it’s certain he’s been placed under house arrest by the Emperor—the Prince never spends more than three nights in the palace at a time! Princess Consort, could something have happened to him?” Hongyi asked, worried.
“Absolutely not,” Ziqing said with certainty. Jun Beiyue was practically the guardian spirit of Da Zhou—even if he’d committed some grave offense, as long as it didn’t threaten the throne itself, the old Emperor would never lay a hand on him.
All of this was clearly aimed at her—Jun Beiyue had simply been drawn away and kept occupied.
There was no need to wait until the seventh day; Ziqing could already say with certainty now that Consort Yi must have acted on the Emperor’s own instructions to move against her that very night!
Today marked the sixth day already. Ouyang Jingqin was surely here to probe the situation!
Seeing Ziqing so certain, Hongyi, though not fully understanding why, felt strangely reassured. “Princess Consort, this servant will go prepare at once.”
Soon, Ziqing lay weak and pale, carried on a palanquin borne by two young servants, slowly making her way toward the reception hall.
Ouyang Jingqin felt secretly pleased, keeping her expression carefully neutral, while the habitually arrogant Ouyang Jingshi immediately sneered coldly, muttering, “Sister, Aunt was right—this woman’s days are surely numbered now.”
“Watch yourself. This is Prince Yao’s residence, after all!” Ouyang Jingqin scolded, displeased.
“Does this young lady have anything to fear from her? This is Prince Yao’s residence, and she’s just a concubine’s daughter from the Prime Minister’s household—what does one have to do with the other?” Ouyang Jingshi snorted coldly, watching with contempt as Ziqing was carried through the doorway.
Ziqing had heard every word from a distance. Her face pale as paper, she nonetheless maintained that same meek, docile expression as always, saying flatly, “Welcome to the Second Prince Consort. Your sister is gravely ill and failed to greet you properly.”
Addressing only the Second Prince Consort, ignoring Ouyang Jingshi entirely, and referring to Jingshi as merely “your sister”—though her tone remained gentle and her expression submissive, the bearing and authority of a princess consort, a true mistress of the household, showed through clearly.
She didn’t even spare Ouyang Jingshi a glance, only offering Ouyang Jingqin a faint smile before allowing Hongyi and Shiliang to help her toward her seat.
This immediately provoked Ouyang Jingshi into a cold snort. “A mere concubine’s daughter from the Prime Minister’s household, a filthy ruined woman—and you dare address my sister as an equal? Shameless!”
Ziqing stopped abruptly, turning to look at Ouyang Jingshi, her expression one of shock and fury. “You… how dare you… what did you just say… I…”
The words caught in her throat entirely, her breathing suddenly turning ragged, as if something were lodged in her chest, unable to catch her breath no matter how hard she tried, her wide eyes rolling back repeatedly.
“Han Ziqing, what’s wrong with you?” Ouyang Jingqin cried out in alarm—if this woman were to die right now, the blame would fall squarely and severely on Jingshi!
“A physician, fetch a physician at once, hurry!” Ouyang Jingshi, thoroughly frightened as well, shouted urgently.