Once everyone had left, the once-crowded reception hall emptied out at once.
Hongyi couldn’t hold it in any longer, bursting into unrestrained laughter. “Mistress, you should have seen Ouyang Jingshi’s face just now—her makeup was ruined completely! Like some grotesque painted mask, so hideous!”
“Ha ha, that move of yours was absolutely brilliant! The Second Prince Consort will probably need calming medicine when she gets home—she was clearly fleeing just now! Nearly tripped and fell, too!”
“Mistress, if they come back tomorrow, do you think they’ll be scared out of their wits? Ouyang Jingshi was practically in tears just now!”
…
Letting Hongyi laugh herself silly, Ziqing calmly swallowed the antidote. Her earlier consumption symptoms had all been artificially induced through medication—otherwise, no acting skill in the world could have fooled the two Ouyang sisters so thoroughly.
Once she’d taken the antidote, she turned, brow furrowed, toward Hongyi, who was still doubled over with laughter. Hongyi immediately clamped her mouth shut, though she couldn’t hold back for long before bursting into another fit of uncontrollable giggling.
Seeing this, Shiliang, who had been holding a straight face all this while, finally couldn’t help herself either, chuckling softly.
Ziqing remained composed, her expression cool and detached, calmly picking up her teacup to drink—only to spray the tea right back out the moment it touched her lips!
Both Hongyi and Shiliang froze in surprise. Ziqing glanced between the two of them, then suddenly burst out laughing herself, unable to stop, nearly choking on her own laughter!
Hongyi and Shiliang both stared, stunned—so their mistress really could laugh so freely after all. When she truly let herself laugh, she was breathtaking—different from her usual quiet, city-toppling beauty, carrying instead a playful charm befitting her age, her eyes curving into crescents, utterly lovely.
After a long while, when Ziqing finally settled down, she noticed both maids staring at her in astonishment. She coughed lightly, her small face flushing slightly red—though the blush faded quickly enough.
“Hongyi, have you gotten to the bottom of Physician Chen’s background?” Ziqing asked flatly, her usual sharp composure restored.
“Quite thoroughly, mistress, rest assured. Everything tomorrow will proceed according to plan,” Hongyi answered seriously.
Ziqing nodded and was about to leave, then paused. “How’s the investigation into the Chen family matter coming along?”
“There’s confirmation that a eunuch from the palace led a group of guards to the Chen residence to interrogate Young Master Chen—but none of them ever returned. They were likely silenced. Mistress, the Ministry of Justice is investigating as well, and the matter runs deep. This servant hasn’t been able to dig further openly.”
Hongyi found this puzzling—Young Master Chen’s murder didn’t seem to have been her mistress’s doing. This should have been something her mistress would want to avoid drawing attention to, yet why did she insist on getting to the bottom of it?
“Everyone go get some rest. Your Prince should be back soon,” Ziqing said flatly, turning to leave…
In the dead of night, by now the sixth night since Jun Beiyue’s disappearance, the doors of the Imperial Study remained firmly shut. Aside from morning court sessions, the Emperor had remained sequestered inside, not even visiting Consort Yi.
Rumors had long since spread wildly regarding Prince Yao’s house arrest and severe punishment, yet even Consort Yi herself had no idea what was truly happening.
“Creak…”
In the silence, a door opened—and out stepped Emperor Tianhui himself.
“Your Majesty, Consort Yi has been waiting in the pavilion ahead for quite some time,” Eunuch Yin reported quietly.
“Send some ginseng tea over to him, and speak a few good words on my behalf. That boy, ah… sigh…”
Emperor Tianhui sighed with feeling, then strode off quickly. He hadn’t even reached the pavilion yet when Consort Yi came rushing out anxiously to greet him, offering ginseng tea. “Your Majesty, I’ve finally managed to see you. Beiyue may be unfilial, but please don’t let this wear down your own health!”
“That boy’s temper rivals his grandfather’s in his younger years, doesn’t it,” Emperor Tianhui remarked with a sigh, and it was clear that once his anger had subsided, he still felt genuine affection for Jun Beiyue.
“Indeed. But that stubborn temper of his could get him killed one day. Beichen is so much better—his temperament takes after Your Majesty most, understanding and adaptable, truly wise.”
Consort Yi seized the opportunity to belittle Jun Beiyue while praising her own son. The Second Prince, Jun Beichen, might be full of grand talk about strategy and statecraft, but it was all theoretical—he’d never once seen actual battle. Without Consort Yi’s constant whispering in the Emperor’s ear and General Ouyang’s military backing, how could he possibly have amassed such power at court today?
“Ha, Beichen does take after me indeed—except at his age, I’d already accumulated countless military achievements, while he spends his days indulging in wine and pleasure, thinking I don’t know?” Emperor Tianhui snorted coldly.
Consort Yi immediately turned coquettish, pushing playfully at the Emperor’s shoulders, pouting, “Your Majesty, Chen’er knows his limits, he hardly indulges every single day. He’s young, after all—doesn’t this remind you of yourself? You had no shortage of romantic escapades in your own youth!”
“Ha, so you’re saying I’m too old now for such things?” Emperor Tianhui laughed, pulling Consort Yi close and giving her rounded backside a firm pinch, startling a delighted squeal from her as she threw herself against him, whispering into his ear, “Whether Your Majesty is old or not, this concubine hasn’t had the chance to properly verify that in quite a few days now.”
Such lascivious talk delighted Emperor Tianhui immensely. Seeing this, Consort Yi pressed further, pouting, “Your Majesty, isn’t it simply that you’ve never given Chen’er the chance to lead troops? Whenever there’s a military matter, you always send Beiyue instead—you’re clearly favoring him!”
At these words, Emperor Tianhui immediately pushed her away without a trace of gentleness, his expression darkening. Seeing this, Consort Yi quickly bowed. “Your Majesty, please calm your anger. This concubine spoke recklessly and deserves severe punishment—please discipline me as you see fit.”
Emperor Tianhui merely waved a hand, signaling her to rise. Consort Yi didn’t dare say another word, retreating to the side. Serving at the Emperor’s side was like living beside a tiger—the Emperor’s true intentions were impossible to fathom, and if anyone in the entire harem understood this saying best, it was surely her.
“Is that Han Ziqing still at Prince Yao’s residence?” Emperor Tianhui asked flatly.
“Yes. I hear she’s fallen ill—Jingqin visited her today and said it’s consumption, quite severe,” Consort Yi reported honestly.
“What day is it now?” Emperor Tianhui asked again, clearly the very one who’d ordered the poisoning, yet phrasing it in a way that left no trace of blame on himself.
“Tomorrow will be the seventh day. Jingqin called in Physician Chen to examine her, and the physician privately said she wouldn’t survive past tomorrow,” Consort Yi said quietly.
Emperor Tianhui snorted coldly. “It’s not that I refuse to grant her what she wants—it’s simply that fate has not favored her with such a life.”
“Your Majesty, aside from her beauty, this concubine sees nothing remarkable about that girl at all. Why would Beiyue possibly…” Consort Yi had wondered about this for quite some time now.
“Ha, I suppose you’d blame me for suddenly arranging the match, thinking I did it deliberately.” Emperor Tianhui mused, then turned and headed back toward the Imperial Study. This son of his was not only the guardian spirit of Da Zhou, but his own personal guardian as well—he certainly wasn’t about to let some trivial woman come between them as father and son.
Inside the Imperial Study, Jun Beiyue stood silently before the desk. Days without proper grooming had left stubble covering his face, yet somehow it only added to his sharp, striking features, lending him a mature, masculine allure—captivating and irresistibly appealing.
Emperor Tianhui had ordered him beaten fifty strokes with the rod and then made him stand here as punishment. For six days now, regardless of whatever combination of pressure and persuasion the Emperor employed, he had remained utterly silent.
Between himself and this father-emperor of his, they were father and son, yes, but ruler and subject even more so. Had he not held some measure of leverage, how could he possibly have remained silent for so long?
Emperor Tianhui stood before him now, like an aging, helpless old father, sighing repeatedly. After a long while, he finally rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. “My son, you and I are ruler and subject, yes, but father and son first and foremost. If you truly care for her this much, then your father will set aside the world’s criticism and let you have your way. I only ask that after your marriage, you remain in the capital more often, come visit the palace more, play chess with your father, share a conversation now and then.”