Chapter 75: A Lively Affair

"He won't get to marry."
Gao Yang followed Xie Jingxing's gaze. In the flower beds, Shen Miao's maid had finished speaking to the little eunuch; the boy answered with obvious delight at receiving so much silver at once, bowed respectfully to the maid, and left.
After the eunuch was gone, Jingzhe stood where she was, a trace of doubt on her face. Shen Miao had ordered her to deliver the thing to this particular boy—but he was clearly new to the palace and had no connection to her mistress. Why insist on him?
She could not puzzle it out, shook her head, and turned away. The errand was done.
"That Shen girl has nerve," Gao Yang said. "She'll play tricks even inside the palace—and it looks like Shen Xin doesn't know."
Xie Jingxing neither agreed nor denied. A woman who would burn her own ancestral hall to ash—he had never thought her timid. Place meant little to Shen Miao; action was action.
"Let's go." A strange smile touched his lips. "Time to watch the show."
"I'll pass." Gao Yang blinked. "Better stay careful now—and with the plan changed, even more so."
"As you like." Xie Jingxing said lazily, then as if remembering something: "If you have time, poke around the old fellows at the Imperial Medical Institute. See whether they have what we need."
"Yes, Lord." Gao Yang bowed with folded hands and strolled off the other way.
……
Time passed unhurriedly until the return feast was due to begin.
The ladies sat at the lower end of the hall; the men at the upper. Closest to the central seat on the left were the princes. Prince Zhou, Prince Jing, and Prince Ding had arrived first; then came Prince Li, Prince Xiang, and Prince Cheng.
Zhou and Jing were brothers—naturally one camp. Xiang and Cheng followed Li—a faction of their own. The Crown Prince, not yet present, had Prince Xuan and Prince Chu behind him. The ninth prince, Prince Ding Fu Xiuyi, belonged to no clique; on paper he looked weakest and most neutral.
When the three princes of the first group appeared, the hall's noise slowly died.
Emperor Wenhui was a strange father. Nine sons, each outstanding. In an ordinary house that might have been joy enough—but in a great noble clan, the more excellent the sons, the fiercer the fight. Worse, these nine fine men were born to the most heartless house on earth. Their excellence made them nails in one another's eyes—each wished the others dead first.
The nine were grown now. Though a crown prince stood, no faction had sheathed its claws. While Wenhui lived, balance held—but someday the coiled dragon would age, and the Ming Qi imperial clan, long restless, would likely bathe in blood again.
Among Zhou's brothers, Li's faction, and the Crown Prince's party, the heir seemed strongest on the surface—yet his body was frail. Wenhui would never allow a sickly son the throne; the Crown Prince's power was less solid orthodoxy than hollow show. One bout of illness and Prince Xuan and Prince Chu would profit. Li's faction, numerous and broad, had many officials in secret allegiance. Zhou and Jing lacked the heir's legitimacy and Li's numbers—but their mother Consort Xian enjoyed the Emperor's favor, and the Xu clan was strong backing.
Prince Ding alone drew little notice. As a faction, one man fighting alone looked absurd. His birth mother Consort Dong was quiet; but for bearing Fu Xiuyi she would never have held a seat among the Four Consorts. Fu Xiuyi was gifted and modest, yet one man's strength has limits—so few favored him. He played neutral and claimed no interest in succession; still, in the deep palace trust no one fully. His brothers watched him like hawks.
The ladies did not read men as sharply as the men read one another. The young girls stole glances at Fu Xiuyi's handsome face, whispering with flushed cheeks.
Fairly judged, the Fu men were well made—and among the nine princes Fu Xiuyi shone brightest. Imperial breeding gave him bearing; his usual calm neither looked down from a height nor lifted his chin to the sky. For maidens, a man both "approachable" and "otherworldly" seemed to radiate grace from every pore.
"Prince Ding really is too handsome," a girl muttered nearby. Shen Miao turned. Feng Anning had somehow slipped to her side, grinned, then put on a stern face. "You're here—why didn't you find me? Am I supposed to hunt you down while you play the grand lady?"
Shen Miao was baffled. When Feng Anning had become sticky as taffy she could not say; when the girl's attitude had changed, she did not know either. She was no true fourteen-year-old and could not be effortlessly close with a peer—and now she could not accept kindness without guard. She shook her head and made excuse: "I didn't see you."
She did not know that the old Shen Miao would not have earned a second glance from Anning. The Shen Miao now was a empress who had bathed in Ming Qi's palace blood—people instinctively follow those stronger than themselves. Anning felt that strength in her and drifted closer without thinking.
"Tch." Anning curled her lip, then teased in a whisper: "Prince Ding's here anyway—wasn't he the one you adored? Not even a look?"
As if to prove her point, Jiang Xiaoxuan laughed aloud: "Fifth Miss Shen—Prince Ding has arrived!"
She meant to shame Shen Miao. Before the imperial family, in full view, Shen Miao could not rage—even Luo Xueyan would have to swallow it. The words could pass as jest; yet Shen Miao's passion for Prince Ding had been court-wide news. At once ladies and men alike looked over.
Luo Xueyan gritted her teeth. This woman meant to provoke. Shen Miao said she no longer loved Prince Ding—but love was not so easily dropped. Perhaps the girl's calm was pain underneath. Shen Xin was absent; Luo Xueyan turned to Shen Miao in fear she would be hurt. "Jiaojiao…"
On the men's side the looks were rich. Cai Lin tugged the corner of his mouth, almost gleeful—Shen Miao had humiliated him at the validation; now she might repeat his disgrace. Su Mingfeng sat beside Su Minglang; the younger tugged his sleeve in delight. "Brother—is Sister Shen here too?"
He was too small; the table blocked him completely. Su Mingfeng shook his head, unsure why his little brother favored the Fifth Miss. If Minglang were older, he might have suspected other feelings.
Still… he glanced at Shen Miao. At this distance, face to face with Prince Ding—what face would she show?
In a corner of the men's seats sat a man in plain green robes. Among the brocade and splendor his dress was simple—yet he did not look shabby for it. Rather he carried the easy grace of an ancient scholar. Now he watched the bowed purple-clad girl quietly; something stirred in his eyes.
This was Pei Lang. By rights he should not have been here—but the Guangwen Hall supervisor's family had a death today, and the supervisor sent Pei Lang in his place. Pei Lang was teacher in name and half supervisor in fact; he did not refuse.
He had not expected to see this.
Prince Zhou and Prince Jing stood beside Fu Xiuyi; Jiang Xiaoxuan's barb reached their ears. Zhou laughed and clapped Fu Xiuyi's shoulder with meaning. "Our ninth brother—truly something…"
Fu Xiuyi's brow creased slightly; a mild smile appeared. "Fourth Brother jests." Even so, his gaze drifted unbidden to the girl in her seat.
"Heh." A soft laugh escaped the girl's lips. The hall went still.
The sound carried no readable emotion—too gentle for mockery, too calm for joy, like aged spirits settled long in the cup, a thousand tastes folded into one light, drifting laugh.
The men could bear it; the ladies were startled. Years in inner houses—and they could not parse that laugh. How old was she?
Shen Miao lifted her head. Her gaze did not linger; like the arrow she had shot at Cai Lin on the validation ground, it struck at once the man standing with hands clasped behind his back—Fu Xiuyi.
Fu Xiuyi paused.
In her eyes there was no adoration, no love, no worship, no surprise—only bottomless calm. Like an old soul looking at him across centuries—no joy, no grief, yet unsettling.
Those clear eyes were beautifully shaped; curved, they might have been sweet as honey. She only looked. Suddenly unease rose in Fu Xiuyi—as if he walked alone in a forest and in the deep grass a great beast's eye found him. The unease sharpened. His mild smile vanished; he stared fixedly at Shen Miao.
"Heh." She laughed softly again. This time all saw it clearly—her red lips curved slightly at the corner while her eyes did not move. A cold laugh.
Perhaps resentment from unrequited love, a thread of spite for the man she could not have—so people thought. Yet they marveled that she dared show displeasure so openly—cold laughter at a prince in the palace. Who had that courage?
Fu Xiuyi did not move.
In that cold laugh he saw a thin blade of killing intent—disguised, yet barely contained. That cold certainty made his heart contract.
Because she rejected his regard, she meant to kill him? Fu Xiuyi was stunned—and more stunned that the intent felt like a threat.
Was he mistaken?
When he looked again, she had already turned to speak with Feng Anning.
A faint killing light flashed in Shen Miao's eyes. So long—even at the validation she had only glimpsed Fu Xiuyi from afar. She had avoided meeting him this close because she feared she could not hide her towering hate.
Jiang Xiaoxuan's provocation dissolved in those two inexplicable laughs—first complex, second cold. Any fool could see there was not a shred of feeling for Fu Xiuyi left. After laughing twice she simply talked with the girl beside her—contempt and disregard so plain you could not tell if they were deliberate.
Only the air had turned cold.
Light flickered in Prince Zhou's eyes. He leaned to Fu Xiuyi with a smile. "Ninth Brother—not so invincible after all."
Fu Xiuyi gave a bitter smile—but Shen Miao had begun to weigh on his mind.
"Heh—the Fifth Miss has some spine," Su Mingfeng said with interest. His "grave illness" had improved, but he still could not take heavy duty; his office remained unrestored.
"Sister Shen was always wonderful." Su Minglang rolled his eyes at him.
In his seat Pei Lang lowered his head for a sip of tea, thought deep in his eyes.
Silence held—then a bold, ringing laugh: "Haha—friends, we're late!"
The mountain of a man was Shen Xin; Shen Qiu followed. With the main figures present, officials greeted them. Shen Xin bowed to Zhou and the others and took his seat. He and Shen Qiu had missed the show—or Shen Xin might have held back, but Shen Qiu would not have spared Jiang Xiaoxuan regardless of pity for ladies.
After Shen Xin came Li's three, then the Crown Prince's three. The Crown Prince looked frail; his consort was stately and dignified. Shen Miao glanced at the Crown Princess—and her gaze trembled.
The Crown Princess had the Chancellor's house behind her—the Crown Prince had meant to steady his seat through her kin. When she became with child, Wenhui feared the heir's sickly body would let her family seize power as maternal relatives; he used means to force miscarriage. The Crown Princess loved her husband deeply—who knew he would strike at his own flesh? She dared not tell her family lest disaster follow; she wasted away and died. Three years after her death the Chancellor's house learned the truth and sought revenge—only to throw in with Fu Xiuyi…
Shen Miao looked at the cup before her. Every Fu was ruthless; every Fu man faithless. She and the Crown Princess were the same—innocent stones sacrificed on the board of realm and power.
Now she would hold the stones. Whoever came to play must be ready to be sacrificed.
After the Crown Princess sat, old friends from before her marriage gathered to chat. On the men's side Prince Yu arrived.
When Prince Yu entered, the ladies' seats fell quiet—especially the girls, faces pale with fear.
In past return feasts Prince Yu never came. For years he ignored court affairs; the suspicious Wenhui indulged him for that. Partly it was gratitude—Prince Yu had saved the Emperor's life in youth. Had he meddled in politics, even the greatest debt might not have outlasted Wenhui's suspicion—the Emperor's brothers had all died by his hand.
Prince Yu's sudden appearance unsettled the women, puzzled the men; the princes smiled as if they knew why. A lady friendly with the Crown Princess said testingly, "Who knows why His Highness appears today?"
The Crown Princess knew. She smiled. "Uncle has been alone so many years—it is time someone tended his household."
Whispers and alarm. Was Prince Yu choosing a princess consort? That title was no blessing. Several girls shrank in their seats.
"Dare I ask, Crown Princess," the lady smiled, "which young lady has such fortune?"
The Crown Princess would not say. She shook her head with a laugh. "You'll know soon enough."
At her words the ladies stiffened in fear. Princess Consort of Prince Yu was a death warrant—sleep in that bed and you only died faster. Where was the fortune?
Feng Anning leaned to Shen Miao. "Who do you think Prince Yu wants?"
"I couldn't guess."
"You're no fun." Anning pouted.
On the other side Shen Qing gripped her hem. The sight of Prince Yu flooded her mind with that night's torments; but for Ren Wanyun pinching her hard, she might have screamed.
"Don't fear, Qing'er," Ren Wanyun whispered at her ear. "Prince Yu came today to deal with that woman for you. Once she enters Prince Yu's mansion, there will be ways to make her wish she were dead…"
Chen Ruoqiu watched Ren Wanyun and Shen Qing, sipped her tea, and smiled faintly.
After Prince Yu, it seemed everyone but the Emperor and Empress had arrived—then cries of surprise rose. Feng Anning, still talking to Shen Miao, looked up.
From deep in the palace, outside the hall doors, a figure approached from afar—purple-gold robe, green-silk boots, features so bright and handsome they seemed unreal, steps unhurried, lazy.
Lin'an Marquis Xie Ding cried out in delight: "Jingxing!" Then thought better of it; his brow furrowed; he could not speak.
Shock again. What sort of return feast was this—Prince Yu, who never attended palace banquets, and now Young Marquis Xie Jingxing of the Xie house?
The ladies' thrilled, adoring looks were no less than when Fu Xiuyi appeared—perhaps greater.
The youth stood straight. His gait looked idle; each step still carried weight. He was already striking; in purple-gold he seemed almost impossible to meet eye to eye. Skin like snow, eyes like lacquer, brows like swords—the faint curve of his lips was a red plum blooming through frost, peach-and-plum vividness in a face more refined than any woman's—yet no woman's softness, only the sun at noon, blinding bright. Alone he walked, and the civil and military officials seemed extras—as if the golden halls of Ming Qi had at last drawn out the nobility and pride carved into his bones.
Handsome enough to dim heaven and earth.
Yet this sun-bright young man had a gaze like drawn steel; look closer at that careless smile and you found only cold and cruelty.
"When did the Young Marquis become so outstanding…" Feng Anning murmured.
The old Xie Jingxing had been handsome and flashy—but beside today's man he looked dimmed, as if he had hidden his light on purpose. Now the mask was off; this grace—beside it Fu Xiuyi seemed not the one meant to stand atop the dynasty and look down on all living things.
The thought startled Shen Miao herself. She looked up as the purple-clad youth reached the seats. Meeting startled eyes, he raised a brow and smiled. "I'm here to join the fun too." He sat—not beside Xie Ding, but beside Su Mingfeng. Su Minglang pouted and grudgingly shifted a little.
Xie Ding's face darkened at once. Others murmured but did not stop him—Xie Jingxing had always been willful; perhaps tonight was whim.
"The Xie house has produced someone remarkable." Luo Xueyan's expression was grave. Dragon or worm—she read people accurately. In Xie Jingxing's movement was a great bearing, and a nameless danger. Those who had seen battle felt it sharper.
Shen Qiu's eyes brightened; he nearly stood, then scratched his head and gulped tea in a rough gesture that made nearby men stare. He laughed awkwardly.
"That Xie boy's not bad." Shen Xin was thoroughly pleased. Anyone who could nettle his old rival won his admiration—if not for the Xie name he might have sworn brotherhood.
Several Fu princes' gazes turned dark together. This Young Marquis of Lin'an looked too outstanding. He held no court office—yet that lawless air alone said he would not bow beneath another. Such men, if they could not be won, were best killed early.
A marquis house holding military tally, producing a great man—no joy for the throne.
Just then a eunuch's drawn voice cried: "His Majesty—Her Majesty—"
Emperor and Empress arrived at last, late after long waiting.
Wenhui looked in good humor; the Empress seemed sharp. As a woman she had been pretty—you could still see youth in her face—but age had hollowed her cheeks into something harsh.
Because the Crown Prince was ill, this Empress's methods had always been fierce. In her past life Shen Miao stood with Fu Xiuyi; after marrying him she suffered countless torments at this woman's hands. It was this Empress who taught her, by example, how to survive the inner palace.
All that past was illusion now. She had come back for revenge—and her final aim was to overturn the throne entire. A mayfly shaking a great tree, a cup of water on a burning cart—that was the distance between her and the Empress now.
Yet that seat had once been hers. One day she would sit there again.
Shen Miao lowered her eyes and lifted her teacup for a sip.
Not far away Shen Qing smiled too—as if to toast with her—and raised her cup.
Her smile seemed brighter.
Darkness thickened in Shen Miao's eyes. Her lips curved—not a cold laugh this time but sweet, bright, unexpectedly lovely. On the men's side several who noticed were briefly dazed.
Pei Lang watched Shen Miao fixedly. He did not know why—as if something in her always pulled him. Months ago she had been Guangwen Hall's rough block; he had been polite to her from duty and looked down on her in his heart.
Emperor and Empress seated; the feast began. "Monarch and subjects rejoice together" was only show—emperor remained emperor, subject remained subject. Harmless jests flew as if heaven and common man truly shared one joy.
Su Mingfeng nudged Xie Jingxing. "Why did you come?"
"To watch the fun." Xie Jingxing's lip curved; another wave of low gasps from the ladies' seats.
"What's fun about something this boring?" Su Mingfeng's head ached.
Then Prince Yu spoke: "Imperial Brother—"
His voice was neither loud nor soft; the hall stilled at once. Everyone feared this god of slaughter.
"Regarding the consort-selection you promised me—the other day—I have decided." Prince Yu's smile was strange. "Tonight is joyous—why not double the joy?"
"I have taken a fancy—to a Shen daughter." He spoke very slowly. Serpent light in his eyes coiled and clung like a parasite on bone, fastening on the purple-clad girl seated upright before him.
"I have taken a fancy—to a Shen daughter."
An uproar burst through the hall. Every eye turned to the three legitimate Shen girls. Shen Qing was already betrothed—only Shen Yue and Shen Miao remained. Shen Yue was gentle and famed for talent; Shen Miao was a tall young woman whose bearing drew the eye—and behind her stood Shen Xin, a living Buddha of war. All saw clearly: Prince Yu's gaze fixed on Shen Miao.
At once looks on Shen Miao turned strange—some gleeful, some pitying. The last Princess Consort of Prince Yu had died in suspicious circumstances; everyone knew foul play lurked. And what sort of devil Prince Yu was, all knew. Yet the throne sheltered him—on one side the mighty general, on the other the brother who had saved the Emperor's life. How to choose?
Shen Xin's face sank the moment Prince Yu finished speaking; veins stood out on his forehead. The mighty general's name was not empty fame—for a moment brutal killing air rolled off him and men nearby changed color.
He was loyal subject—but if he could not protect his own daughter, he would spend life and merit without fear of facing Prince Yu.
Shen Qiu's mouth tightened; he stared at Prince Yu as if ready to leap and die with him should Shen Xin's name be spoken.
Luo Xueyan gripped Shen Miao's hand. Her bold smile was gone—replaced by deep, hard protectiveness, a she-wolf over her cub, yielding not an inch to his pressure.
The Shen family's stance drew low exclamations. Wenhui sat on the high seat; such posture, unafraid of imperial majesty—would the suspicious Emperor keep a knot in his heart afterward?
Prince Ding's eyes moved; surprise entered his look at Shen Miao.
"Seems the Fifth Miss truly is General Shen's treasure," Su Mingfeng murmured to Xie Jingxing. "The Shens would go this far for her."
To oppose Prince Yu was to oppose the throne. Whatever came, the Shen move tonight said plainly: no surrender. Even if Wenhui decreed, they would not easily agree.
Xie Jingxing smiled lazily and said nothing.
In a corner Pei Lang's hand tightened on his cup. The girl who could shoot at a schoolmate without blinking—what would she do?
Wenhui's smile turned unfathomable; a faint dark glint when he looked at the Shens. "Which Shen daughter does Royal Brother favor?"
Everyone waited for Prince Yu's answer. Shen Qing's face lit with triumph—then agony tore through her belly. She cried out and crumpled to the floor, clutching her stomach.
"What happened?"
"Qing'er!"
The sudden collapse startled the hall. Ren Wanyun caught her at once. Shen Qing's color drained white. Shen Yue tugged Chen Ruoqiu's sleeve; the mother's heart jumped—and she looked instinctively at Shen Miao.
The girl in purple sat unmoved. Meeting Chen Ruoqiu's eyes, she smiled faintly, turned to Luo Xueyan, and asked with worry: "What ails Eldest Sister? Could she be poisoned?"
"Poisoned!" Chaos at once.
Shen Miao pressed on, still looking at Luo Xueyan: "Could an assassin have slipped in?"
Now not only the ladies but the princes and Wenhui changed color. At the return feast, with civil and military officials present—an assassin meant the throne itself was in danger. Guards outside flooded in, hands on sword hilts, eyes scanning every corner.
Possible assassin; Shen Qing writhing on the floor—the question of which Shen girl Prince Yu wanted was forgotten. Gossip mattered less than life.
Su Mingfeng opened his mouth; after a long moment he said softly in admiration: "Fine move."
With one sentence Shen Miao had shifted everyone's focus. In the tension Prince Yu looked a fool.
Xie Jingxing glanced at the "worried" girl and snorted.
Shen Miao's eyes flickered. No one knew the Fu clan's suspicion better than she who had lived among them for years. Shen Qing's state, plus a hint of timing—for Wenhui, assassinated countless times, was enough to make a bird fear the bowstring.
"Mother—we should fetch a physician for Eldest Sister," Shen Miao said. "This cannot go on."
Luo Xueyan came back to herself and frowned at Ren Wanyun. Shen Qing was in such pain—yet the mother had not thought to call a doctor. What sort of mother was that? She bowed to Wenhui: "This humble wife begs Your Majesty send an imperial physician for Qing'er—to relieve her crisis."
Before Shen Qing could speak, Ren Wanyun shrieked: "No!"
Every eye turned to Ren Wanyun.
The word was out—disaster. Under so many probing stares she forced a smile through gritted teeth. "This wife… this wife meant Qing'er ought not trouble the imperial physicians… nor spoil everyone's mood… this wife will take Qing'er away…"
"What talk is that?" Luo Xueyan said gravely. "Nothing outweighs life. Do you as her mother think the feast more important than Qing'er's life?"
Expressions turned strange—the birth mother seemed unwilling to call a doctor; the aunt by marriage cared keenly for the girl's survival.
On the men's side Shen Gui stared at Ren Wanyun, face like still water, wishing the troublesome pair were not his kin. If Wenhui took dislike—what of his career?
"Lady Shen is right," the Empress said coolly, glancing at Ren Wanyun. "The Eldest Miss's condition comes first. The return feast is nothing beside life."
Panic seized Ren Wanyun. If a physician examined Shen Qing, the pregnancy would be exposed before all. "Your Majesty, still—"
"I'm fine…" Sweat beaded on Shen Qing's forehead; her face was paper white with pain. She knew she must not let the physician come—yet she choked out through the agony—
"The Eldest Sister should speak," Shen Miao said calmly. "This is not only your safety—it is everyone in this hall's. If you were poisoned, an assassin is among us and all are at risk. Even if not for yourself—for His Majesty?"
When she finished, Wenhui's gaze turned heavy.
Shen Qing nearly spat blood from rage. One sentence tied her to the Emperor—what could she say? Dare she be disloyal?
Several Fu princes heard Shen Miao's meaning. Prince Li paused, then said: "This Shen girl has a sharp tongue indeed!"
"Someone go," Wenhui said without hesitation. "Fetch the imperial physician. A Shen daughter falls ill in the palace—I will know every detail!"
"Eldest Sister must not move rashly," Shen Miao said lightly. "The killer may hide in the crowd. When the physician comes, let him take her pulse here—lest moving her blood and qi cause harm."
Before Ren Wanyun could speak, Wenhui nodded. "Good."
One sentence sealed every escape.
To diagnose Shen Qing before the court meant her pregnancy would be proclaimed before civil and military officials. Ren Wanyun trembled uncontrollably—and terror spread to Shen Qing.
Shen Qing endured the pain, fear rising: "Mother, don't…"
But what could Ren Wanyun do? Wenhui had spoken; she could not defy an edict. In the inner house she could be fierce; before emperor, empress, and officials she was lost. She looked toward Shen Gui, begging help—and met only blame and fury.
Ren Wanyun's hands and feet went cold; deep despair flooded her. She could not even comfort the girl in her arms and collapsed sitting, empty-eyed.
"What's wrong with your aunt?" Feng Anning whispered to Shen Miao. "Why does she look so afraid?"
Shen Miao smiled. Luo Xueyan frowned too—Ren Wanyun's strangeness was odd—but she could not guess why, and looked toward Chen Ruoqiu and Shen Yue.
Shen Yue was frightened by Shen Qing's state, clutching Chen Ruoqiu's hem. Chen Ruoqiu stared motionless at Ren Wanyun. As sisters-in-law for years she knew her second sister-in-law never lost composure—today's collapse could only mean she had been caught in her own trap.
Shen Yue whispered: "Was Eldest Sister really poisoned? Mother—is it Fifth Sister…"
"Yue'er!" Chen Ruoqiu stopped her sharply and glanced at Shen Miao. Several people away she could not read the girl's eyes—but the mouth seemed slightly lifted. Chen Ruoqiu's heart chilled. She felt tonight must involve Shen Miao—yet would she dare poison in the palace? Whatever the truth, Shen Qing's reputation could not be saved.
Prince Yu's face had darkened at the disruption. He was wild but knew weight from light—this was no moment to repeat his earlier words. A mocking smile touched his lips. Shen Miao had escaped today—whether or not she poisoned Shen Qing, did she think this could hold him? Afterward he could still speak to Wenhui. Some things could not be outrun.
The physician came quickly—surprisingly young. Palace physicians were usually old, seasoned before entering the Institute; this man looked barely past twenty, handsome enough that several young ladies stared.
Shen Miao's heart jolted the instant she saw him. She studied the young physician carefully. He carried his medical box, bowed to emperor and empress, and approached Ren Wanyun. Ren Wanyun tried to block—but he said pleasantly: "Madam, please release Miss Shen so I may take her pulse."
Before emperor and empress and the watching court, Ren Wanyun dared not resist. Shen Qing had fainted from pain. Ren Wanyun stepped back and watched those two fingers settle on Shen Qing's wrist.
While Shen Miao stared at the physician, Feng Anning teased at her ear: "Don't tell me you've taken a fancy to him too? If you have, your taste isn't bad."
Shen Miao paused. "You know him?"
"Eh?" Anning was surprised. "First time you've been interested in something I said. Fine—I'll be generous. He's new to the Institute, skill extraordinary—cured Consort De's chronic heart pain. His Majesty values him, broke precedent to admit him—youngest officer there, and good-looking, so many girls adore him."
"You too?" Shen Miao asked.
"Me? Never." Anning lifted her chin. "Skilled and handsome—but still only a physician, no great family behind him, alone in the world. How could he match my station? Even you—fine to look, but for a proper match, still a little short." Spoiled from birth, Anning believed her husband must be a world-shaking man; a small physician barely registered.
"What's his name?"
"You haven't actually fallen for him?" Anning eyed her suspiciously. "He's called Gao Yang—but there's no great Gao house in Dingjing." Not from a noble clan, then.
Shen Miao watched the young physician, almost forgetting Shen Qing and Ren Wanyun. Something stirred in her—familiarity, as if she had seen him somewhere. In her past life she had never heard of a Gao Yang in the Institute.
Not the Institute—where then?
While she thought, Gao Yang finished the pulse. He turned and met Shen Miao's examining gaze—paused briefly—then recovered and bowed to Ren Wanyun.
"Physician Gao," the Empress asked, "was Miss Shen poisoned?"
Gao Yang glanced at the unconscious Shen Qing, then at Ren Wanyun's bloodless face, and bowed. "Your Majesty—Miss Shen was not poisoned. She drank lotus-leaf tea." He paused. "There was no poison in the tea. Miss Shen was not poisoned."
"Oh?" Wenhui looked at Shen Qing. "If not poison—why like this?"
"Your Majesty," Gao Yang sighed, "lotus-leaf tea is cold in nature. For ordinary people it is harmless—but for a woman with child it can stir the fetus… Miss Shen is with child."
With child.
Uproar again. Shen Gui's mouth opened; his face flushed purple-red. He stared at Ren Wanyun, who sat collapsed and empty.
"Good!" Lady Wei sprang to her feet, heedless of place, pointing at Ren Wanyun and cursing: "You betrothed to our Wei house—and wanted us to marry damaged goods, raise another man's son? Ren Wanyun—have you no shame!"
The hall erupted louder. Shen Qing's match with the Weis had been loud news; today before the court she was found pregnant—what logic was this? An unmarried girl with child—secret affair? And she meant to marry into the Wei house carrying another's seed? Through Ming Qi's history, a marvel of ugliness.
Ren Wanyun still did not move, strength gone, crawling half to Shen Qing and pulling her into her arms.
"Lady Shen—this palace also wishes to know what this means," the Empress said coldly from the high seat.
Ming Qi was relatively open about men and women—but unmarried pregnancy and secret congress disgraced a clan. Discovery meant drowning in the pond. The Shens were a great house; Shen Gui's rank though below Shen Xin's was not low—the higher Shen Qing's status, the uglier the scandal. The Empress ruled the six palaces and despised such filth; the cold in her voice reached everyone.
Ren Wanyun tasted bitterness at the mouth and could not speak. Say Shen Qing was not with a lover but raped? Either way virtue was broken. As for Prince Yu—not one word. He remembered every slight; accuse him and there would be no good end.
"If Lady Shen will not speak—let Miss Shen." The Empress's gaze turned sharp. She ordered her maid: "Wake Miss Shen. This palace has questions."
Ren Wanyun startled—but the maids moved fast. Before she could stop them, they roughly pinched Shen Qing awake. Pain still gripped her belly—and from the high seat the Empress asked coldly: "Shen Qing—who is the father of the child in your belly?"
Shen Qing stiffened and looked to Ren Wanyun for help. Ren Wanyun shook her head urgently—say nothing; later she would find a way to save her.
Shen Qing did not understand but dared not babble. "This daughter… this daughter…"—and could not finish.
Shen Miao sighed softly. "Eldest Sister—speak. You've committed a grave offense; since the end is the same, you cannot bear this alone."
Ren Wanyun glared at Shen Miao, wishing to tear her mouth apart.
Shen Qing shuddered, terror in her eyes. Shen Miao's meaning was clear—she could not escape death. Between life and death she forgot everything and cried aloud: "No… no… my child—is His Highness Prince Yu's! The child in my belly is Prince Yu's!"
One wave unsettled; another rose. The return feast dragged scandal after scandal. All looked at Prince Yu. He narrowed his eyes; his look at Shen Qing was very dark.
"Qing'er, don't talk nonsense!" Ren Wanyun lunged to cover her mouth—but words spilled like water, never recalled.
Shen Qing stared wide at Prince Yu. Her thinking was simple: secret lover, unmarried pregnancy—the end was fixed. But if the child was Prince Yu's blood, tied to the imperial clan, she had a talisman. The Emperor would not order his nephew's death!
Shen Miao looked at Shen Qing, almost amused. She could guess the girl's mind—but she forgot one phrase from the inner palace: remove the mother, keep the son. That trick never failed. Did she think a scrap of flesh would keep her safe? She would only die faster.
Emperor and Empress wore uncertain weather. Involving Prince Yu now was no simple matter.
On the men's side Shen Qiu and Shen Xin exchanged a look. Shen Xin was only stunned; Shen Qiu's fists clenched in secret. Shen Miao had never told him who violated Shen Qing—now all was clear. No wonder she would not speak—it was Prince Yu. Had Shen Miao's luck failed, his own sister would sit in Shen Qing's place. Rage and suffocation filled him.
Prince Yu neither confirmed nor denied—so it was all but settled. Pity and sympathy colored looks at Shen Qing. Prince Yu secretly abducted girls by many means—even officials' daughters—and dared. Today the unlucky one was Shen Qing.
In the silence Shen Miao's voice rose lightly: "No wonder Prince Yu earlier asked to marry a Shen daughter—he meant to give Eldest Sister a proper name."
Light words—and understanding dawned on many. So when Prince Yu said he favored a Shen girl, he meant Shen Qing; the child proved it. Looks at Shen Qing shifted again—as if she had not been forced but sought to be princess consort.
"The Fifth Miss is formidable," Su Mingfeng marveled. "Turning black to white at will."
Most were led by the nose—not all. Clear heads still remembered Prince Yu's eyes on Shen Miao when he spoke.
Xie Jingxing folded his arms, half-smiling at the purple-clad girl across the hall. When had everyone at this banquet begun to follow her nose? Even this end sat in her calculation—and danger had been real: bold enough to gamble, precise in strike, every reaction accounted—a master play.
He did not mind adding a push. "Affection matched—excellent."
The Emperor's brow creased almost invisibly. Prince Yu's wildness had never before been aired in public; private sins always found private fixes. Exposed before the court—punish his brother and breed resentment; cover it and the throne could not awe officials. Shen Miao and Xie Jingxing's words offered a path: if the pair had consented in passion, some excuse existed. He glanced at the Empress; she understood and said: "So the lady Royal Brother favored was Miss Shen—but you two were far too reckless. Such a scandal—what now?"
Shen Qing breathed relief, ignoring belly pain, half crawling to kowtow. "All my fault—but I cannot bear to lose this child. I beg Your Majesty and Your Majesty show mercy for the babe in my womb."
Hisses rippled. This time Shen Qing had no dignity left—face and inner decency both gone. The Empress looked at her with disgust but said lightly: "Guilt remains—but tonight is the return feast, joy only. Royal Brother has been alone many years; this palace will do a kindness—grant you marriage. A golden jade match."
Shen Qing snatched life and said joyfully: "Thank Your Majesty—thank Your Majesty's grace." She did not see how ugly this looked. Once she said Shen Miao was unworthy—now she was the Shen family's most disgraceful legitimate daughter.
Prince Yu looked at Shen Qing darkly, then at Shen Miao. On the high seat the Emperor warned him with a stare; Prince Yu could only bow slowly. "Thank Imperial Brother and Imperial Sister-in-law."
Only the chill in those words was for those who knew.
Shen Miao's lips curved. She met Prince Yu's gaze without fear—stars of pleasure in clear eyes, pleasure hiding something beast-fierce.
Tonight was only the appetizer. What waited for Prince Yu's mansion lay ahead. To smash his scheme before his face—Prince Yu must be raging inside.
Men enraged lose judgment fastest—and one wrong move on the board, pressed home, ends in checkmate.
She tilted her head; her eyes were unusually bright; the smile on her lips, seen closely, was chill enough to raise the hair.
It begins, Prince Yu.