Chapter 7

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Hearing Dai Zheng’s words, Sang Qingyun was greatly surprised. Today was the first day the new ladies entered the palace, yet His Majesty did not summon the newly arrived concubines for the night but instead dealt with state affairs in the Qinzheng Hall—something no one could have anticipated.

However, the duties could not be delayed. She quickly stood up and said, “I will go immediately. Thank you, Chief Eunuch, for informing me.”

The candlelight downstairs flickered brightly, and the surroundings were very quiet, with only the sound of Dai Zheng’s quick footsteps fading away and Sang Qingyun changing clothes.

Zhao Yuyan paused with cup in hand, reflecting on Dai Zheng’s words. Her eyes dimmed.

She had served His Majesty all day, but before the eunuchs and the chamberlain in charge of the emperor’s bedchamber arrived, His Majesty had already sent her away.

She naturally assumed that His Majesty intended to select a new concubine for the night and thus she was no longer needed by his side. Who would have known it was merely to allow Sang Qingyun to take over the duty shift?

During the year since she entered the palace, Sang Qingyun often had continuous shifts, allowing Zhao Yuyan to rest, but she had never been asked to stay longer herself or to prevent Sang Qingyun from coming.

At first, Zhao Yuyan foolishly thought His Majesty cared for her and, out of respect for the Dowager Concubine Zhao, was more attentive to her. But as time passed, she increasingly felt something was amiss.

It seemed His Majesty simply desired to see more of Sang Qingyun.

Yet she could not understand why, when she herself was excellent in every regard, beautiful, and even related to Dowager Concubine Zhao, His Majesty remained indifferent toward her.

Why?

Moreover, having lived together for so long, she understood Sang Qingyun well.

Her nature was rigid and dull, lacking any charm or wit, not the type to ambitiously climb higher by flattering others.

Otherwise, given her beauty and proximity, she would have long ago been granted a titled consort by His Majesty.

What exactly did His Majesty value in someone so superficially appealing but otherwise unremarkable?

Or perhaps those who serve before the emperor must be dull and obedient to be trustworthy?

A sudden, inexplicable sense of crisis surged through Zhao Yuyan’s heart, her pulse pounding fiercely. She felt her time was running out.

Regardless of Sang Qingyun’s situation, she herself was but a minor figure of humble origin—His Majesty’s greater trust in those serving before him placed them in a completely different world than her own.

Zhao Yuyan felt frustrated, yet never forgot her true purpose in entering the palace: she was not merely to be a lady-in-waiting.

With fewer palace members before and now eight new arrivals, His Majesty’s attention would be even less likely to fall on her in the future.

Perhaps her aunt had chosen the wrong path for her from the start; she should not have come to serve before His Majesty.

With this thought, Zhao Yuyan rose and stepped out swiftly, disappearing into the night.

—

When Sang Qingyun hurried to the Qinzheng Hall, the interior was already brightly lit. The wind howled over the high platform; all around was silent, no one daring to make a sound while His Majesty was attending to state affairs.

She slipped in through the side door, first kneeling in respect before placing a cup of refreshing tea beside His Majesty.

The faint clink of porcelain sounded. Xie Yanheng turned his head and glimpsed the corner of a translucent celadon Ru kiln cup delicately held between her pale, slender fingers.

The porcelain was like jade, and so was she—not relying on ornate patterns, but on essence.

Strong in nature, fresh as the sky after rain, she stood out distinctly in the blossoming, ornate palace surroundings.

“Where have you been?” Xie Yanheng asked calmly.

Sang Qingyun was silent.

She did not believe His Majesty truly cared about her whereabouts; he was merely accusing her of negligence, so she respectfully bowed and confessed, “Your servant is guilty of being late; it was not intentional neglect. I beg Your Majesty’s pardon.”

Xie Yanheng glanced at her and spoke gently, “I am asking where you went.”

Sang Qingyun knew she could not deceive His Majesty, so she told the truth: “The spring scenery was so beautiful, Your Majesty, your servant was reading and enjoying the view in a quiet corner of the library, which is why I did not return promptly.”

“You have never been late in three years at court,” he said. “Why today?”

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Sang Qingyun was silent, unsure whether she should have told the truth.

Serving His Majesty for three years, he usually spoke briefly and clearly; sometimes ambiguous, but rarely so probing.

Yet since he asked, it meant he truly cared, so she had to consider carefully.

What was his intention?

Lowering her long eyelashes, she dared not meet His Majesty’s gaze.

It could not really be a charge of negligence; His Majesty was known for leniency, not harsh treatment of servants.

The answer was obvious.

He cared whether she cared.

But Sang Qingyun did not.

To her, whether new or old concubines, noble or lesser, made no difference.

She did not care and could not care. She knew better than anyone what her status was, what life she wanted, and what future she would have.

Moreover, all were imperial consorts; His Majesty had the right and duty to favor whomever he wished.

So she truly did not understand what His Majesty cared about—was there any difference at all?

Previously, when he visited the Empress or the Noble Consort’s chambers, such scenes did not occur.

In this, Sang Qingyun felt somewhat dull-witted, for she had never understood His Majesty, not once.

So she said, “Your servant thought Your Majesty would not be handling affairs in Qinzheng Hall today, so I returned slowly.”

“Your servant will not be late again; I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness.”

Xie Yanheng studied her for a long moment, then smiled faintly.

“You have learned to read my thoughts.”

“Your servant dares not.”

In truth, Xie Yanheng himself did not know what he hoped to hear. He knew she was feigning ignorance—understanding but pretending not to.

It was pointless to ask further; he would not trouble anyone unnecessarily—

He disliked anything forced.

After a moment of silence, Xie Yanheng signaled her to come forward and grind ink. Sang Qingyun obediently complied.

The Huizhou ink had a rich fragrance when ground. She wore a simple blue robe, slender and fair hands polishing the inkstone. The ink, decorated with gold and colored inlays, seemed like an ornament, accentuating her snowy skin as smooth as jade and cream.

Xie Yanheng had stopped writing at some point, turning to watch her focused on grinding ink—cool, calm, peaceful—as if her presence purified the usual irritation he felt when reviewing memorials.

She carried a faint fragrance—not from any perfume or flowers, but like fresh grass after rain.

Pure, untouched by dust.

Compelled by some impulse, Xie Yanheng reached out to gently stroke her smooth, dark hair. But his touch shattered the stillness, and Sang Qingyun instinctively stepped back.

Only then did Xie Yanheng realize his impulsiveness and lightly knocked on the desk. “The tea is cold; go get a new cup.”

Outwardly gentle as lush grass, but inwardly tough as rock.

Though she appeared obedient, Sang Qingyun was more stubborn than anyone.

She left faster than usual, seeming to flee in haste. Xie Yanheng’s brows furrowed subtly.

The reason His Majesty did not summon consorts for the night was because he was in no mood—there had been a riot among the suburban refugees of the capital, only resolved properly in the evening.

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But Sang Qingyun’s behavior truly caught him off guard.

Having lately visited the inner palace less often, he admitted his attention to her had been excessive.

Sang Qingyun was decent, but only decent—a capable and comforting woman to have nearby.

But if the goddess was heartless, why waste extra thought?

As emperor, many obedient and gentle women surrounded him; he need not dwell on one who repeatedly rejected him.

—

The next day, news of His Majesty’s plan to boat on the Taiye Pond quickly reached the Empress’s and Noble Consort Yuan’s chambers.

The Empress immediately ordered the message delivered to Consort Xu, while the Noble Consort hesitated long before reluctantly sending the news to Tong Baolin and Pei Changzai.

Thus, when Consort Xu successfully met His Majesty and went boating on the Taiye Pond, Tong Baolin and Pei Changzai arrived late, only seeing His Majesty’s imperial boat carrying Consort Xu away from the shore.

Tong Baolin was furious, stomping her feet under the willow tree by the water. “How did that vixen get ahead? Yesterday she deliberately caused trouble for me in the Phoenix Palace, and today she takes the lead again!”

Chunyan sighed, “Consort Xu acted quickly, young mistress. Please calm down. If Consort Xu knew you were upset, she’d be even more pleased. You know, though she looks delicate and pale, Consort Xu is the most relentless of all.”

“I came out as soon as I received the news; how could I be slower than her? Those ranked below fifth grade usually walk, only in bad weather or for distant palace banquets can they use sedan chairs. I live about as far from Taiye Pond as she does—how did she get there so fast?!” Tong Baolin could not imagine that her lateness was due to the Noble Consort’s hesitation. She could only watch the boat grow distant, as if hearing Consort Xu’s laughter across the water, her heart burning with resentment.

Chunyan glanced at her silently.

Last night, the palace lights had stayed bright unusually late. Many had lit their lanterns, eagerly awaiting His Majesty’s arrival; Tong Baolin was no exception.

She had carefully applied eyebrow makeup and lip color, dressed with care, waiting to be summoned for the night. But His Majesty’s solitary rest shattered everyone’s dreams.

After failing yesterday, today she had tried her hardest, arriving as soon as she heard the news, yet was still beaten by Consort Xu, naturally feeling indignant.

Had it been anyone else, she might have let it go, but it was Consort Xu—the hardest to deal with.

At that moment, Pei Changzai, who had also received the news, arrived. Seeing Tong Baolin’s anger, she knew she had little chance and lowered her gaze in disappointment.

Tong Baolin mocked her silence, “I couldn’t even catch up, and you’re even slower—by now the opportunity’s long gone.”

“If you’re this slow next time, even if His Majesty is right there, you’ll miss your chance.”

Unhappy, Tong Baolin vented all her frustration on Pei Changzai, who never spoke up, “Noble Consort favors us, hoping we will gain favor and serve her well. But looking at you, who knows what she sees in you?”

Pei Changzai, unjustly scolded though she had done nothing, flushed red.

She wanted to retort, citing her rank to suppress Tong Baolin, but knowing Tong Baolin had been favored by the wet nurse in the inner palace and now by the Noble Consort, she dared not. She stammered, “I came as soon as I got the news. There’s no need to be so harsh.”

“Besides, I…I am a changzai, and you are Baolin—you can’t…”

Tong Baolin sneered, “Changzai or Baolin—what difference? We both serve the Noble Consort; we’re the same family. Should we quarrel over rank? Besides, your family background is only one level higher than mine. If I gain favor, I’ll surpass you soon enough. What is there to boast about?”

Pei Changzai was furious but had no comeback and dared not offend the Noble Consort, so she turned and left without saying more.

Not far away, in the octagonal pavilion, a palace lady gazed toward Tong Baolin with a calm expression.

“Your Highness, look at Tong Baolin’s arrogance. Her rank is clearly below Pei Changzai’s, yet she dares speak like this, relying on her beauty and the Noble Consort’s favor. Poor Pei Changzai, such a simple person, even as a changzai, she’s bullied by lower ranks.”

The lady looked out at the shimmering Taiye Pond with a faint, almost inaudible tone.

Her expression was distant, as if speaking not only of Tong Baolin and Pei Changzai but through them of others: “Arrogance is good. I want them to fight among themselves.”

“Better yet, may they battle to the death.”