Zhan Qingcheng remained in Ningxi Palace all the way until noon, when a procession of eunuchs and palace maids arrived bearing the midday meal — almost entirely simple vegetarian fare.

Consort Ning looked at Zhan Qingcheng and said, “A’Jiu, it’s hectic out there. Stay and share a simple meal with your mother.”

“Is this all you eat every day, Mother?” Zhan Qingcheng’s brow furrowed. No wonder she seemed to have grown a little thinner every time he saw her.

Consort Ning coughed twice before replying, “Those who follow the Buddha have nothing against a little vegetarian food.”

Zhan Qingcheng said nothing. Since he was here, sharing a meal with his mother was only natural.

But before they could begin eating, a young palace maid entered from outside and bowed respectfully. “Your Highness the Empress Dowager, Your Highness the Prince — the Eighth Prince requests an audience.”

“Old Eight has come?” He had only just returned to the Imperial City a short while ago, and already he was here to pay his respects.

Consort Ning’s face brightened with delight. “Quickly, invite the Eighth Prince in to dine with us.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The young maid withdrew.

Consort Ning looked at Zhan Qingcheng. “You and Old Eight haven’t seen each other in quite some time, have you? Now that you’re both back in the capital, you must see each other more often.”

“Understood.” Zhan Qingcheng inclined his head.

Shortly after, the young maid led someone inside.

The newcomer appeared to be close to Zhan Qingcheng’s age. Though he was not as strikingly handsome as the Ninth Prince, he was undeniably a remarkably fine-looking man. The rough-edged quality forged by years of campaigning on the battlefield not only did nothing to diminish his distinguished bearing — if anything, it lent him an air of vigorous masculinity.

This was the man who had returned to the Imperial City just a few days prior: the Eighth Prince, Zhan Lingtian.

Catching sight of Zhan Qingcheng in the room, Zhan Lingtian’s brow relaxed into a smile. He first paid his respects to the Empress Dowager, then turned his gaze to Zhan Qingcheng.

“A’Jiu, so you really are back. The main army has yet to arrive, and yet here you are, having slipped back ahead of everyone — just to come check on Mother?”

Zhan Qingcheng said nothing. Consort Ning had already begun to complain: “When has it ever been to come and check on this old woman?”

This son of hers had returned early and yet had not come to see her — it was only after she herself went to the Emperor and had him summoned that she had managed to see him at all.

Zhan Lingtian smiled. “But A’Jiu has come to see you now, hasn’t he, Mother? That’s what matters.”

True enough — he had come, and that was what mattered. What more could she ask for with a son like this?

“Now that Old Eight is here, perfect timing — we were just about to eat.” Consort Ning glanced at the palace maids below.

The young maid bowed and withdrew, and before long returned with an additional set of bowl and chopsticks.

Consort Ning’s Ningxi Palace — whether in what it served or what it used — was the very picture of simplicity, much like the woman herself: refined, unpretentious, plainspoken.

Zhan Lingtian was perfectly at ease. He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat without ceremony.

The Eighth Prince’s mother had passed away from illness when he was very young. Over the years, he had essentially been raised by Consort Ning — who had been Noble Consort Ning at the time. Because of this, the bond between the Eighth Prince and Consort Ning was especially strong.

And given that Consort Ning’s own son, the Ninth Prince, had been quiet and reserved from childhood, never particularly adept at endearing himself to others, it was the Eighth Prince who had, over the years, grown even closer to her. In many ways, he was more like her own son than the Ninth Prince himself.

Perhaps because he no longer had elders at home, the Eighth Prince, whenever he returned from the frontier, always brought Consort Ning a great many fine things. This time, he had brought back an entire collection of medicinal herbs — all gathered by his own hand from deep in the mountains and wilds beyond the pass.

After the midday meal, a young eunuch presented the Eighth Prince’s medicinal herbs.

Consort Ning, however, frowned. “Old Eight, I have everything I need here. You really didn’t have to bring all of this. You went and gathered these yourself from the wilderness again, didn’t you?”

She looked clearly disapproving, evidently worried he might come to harm while out searching for herbs.

“Mother, please don’t worry. I only gathered these in passing,” Zhan Lingtian said at once.

Consort Ning opened her mouth to say something more, but before she could get the breath out, she was already coughing.

Though Zhan Qingcheng was generally a man of few words, around Consort Ning he was more attentive than usual. When she coughed, he channeled his inner energy to support her, and before long her coughing eased.

Zhan Lingtian’s brow tightened. “Mother, this cough of yours never seems to get better. This can’t go on.”

When he and A’Jiu were present, they could at least channel their energy to ease it for her — but when they were away, would she simply cough on and on without relief?

Lian’er, standing nearby, could not help but murmur softly, “Her Highness never sleeps well at night. She wakes up coughing many times every night.”

“Lian’er, don’t make trouble,” said Consort Ning, shooting her a glance.

Lian’er pressed her lips together and said no more.

Zhan Qingcheng looked at Consort Ning. “Mo Bai has returned to the Imperial City. Tomorrow, I will ask him to come and take your pulse.”

“There’s no need to trouble Master Mo Bai. The prescription he wrote for me half a year ago — I find the medicine rather difficult to take, so I…”

“Her Highness always feels nauseous when she drinks the medicine. She cannot get Master Mo Bai’s medicine down,” Lian’er could not help but add.

Consort Ning looked slightly exasperated. She had evidently been far too indulgent with this little girl, who now dared to speak so freely in front of Old Eight and A’Jiu.

Still, the Empress Dowager had always been a gentle soul, warm and kind with the young eunuchs and palace maids around her, and so it was natural that those in her service felt close to her. Though the imperial household had its rules, within those rules there was still room for a little human warmth.

Seeing Consort Ning and the young palace maid so at ease with each other, both Zhan Qingcheng and Zhan Lingtian felt a quiet relief. The Empress Dowager’s life in the palace was no doubt a lonely one — having a devoted little companion by her side was always a good thing.

“Mother, now that I’m back this time, I should be staying for a good while. If you don’t mind, why not come and stay with me at the Eighth Prince’s Manor for a spell?”

These words came just ahead of Zhan Qingcheng’s own — which was precisely why, of the two, this son of hers was so often less close to her than the Eighth Prince.

Consort Ning noticed Zhan Qingcheng’s expression, as though he had something to say, and could not help but smile faintly. “Surely A’Jiu would also be willing to have this old woman come and stay for a few days?”

A flicker of warmth finally touched the depths of Zhan Qingcheng’s eyes. “Mother honors me with her presence.”

“And what need is there to be so formal with me? Have you forgotten — I raised you with my own hands.”

Consort Ning gave him a sidelong glance. Everything about this son of hers was admirable — he was handsome and capable — and yet he was just too cold in temperament, truly not as attentive as Old Eight.

Even so, beneath that distant exterior beat a kind heart. He simply did not know how to show it.

“But your manor has no lady of the house. I fear I would grow terribly bored were I to go.”

There was, of course, a deeper meaning to Consort Ning’s words. “Look at Old Eight’s manor — at least the Eighth Princess Consort and his side consorts are there to keep me company and chat with me.”

Zhan Lingtian laughed aloud. “A’Jiu, Mother is pressing you to marry again!”

Consort Ning smiled as well. “No need to worry — A’Jiu has already agreed to the matter of selecting a consort. The Ninth Prince’s Manor will soon have a lady of the house!”