Chapter Thirty-Seven: By Chance

Qixiang Palace. The Emperor sat upright at his desk, which was piled high with memorials. As he reviewed them, he glanced repeatedly at the Noble Consort beside him, who was engrossed in her book and paid no heed to his gaze.

After several glances without response, the Emperor slammed the memorial in his hand onto the desk in annoyance. “Beloved Consort, why do you ignore me altogether? Do you take me for nothing?”

The Noble Consort, startled from her absorption by his abrupt action, set her book aside and chided him gently, “Your Majesty must not be so childish. You are handling affairs of state; how could I dare to interrupt such important matters?”

The Emperor’s expression softened at her words. He reached out and pulled her into his embrace, inhaling the fragrance at her neck with satisfaction, oblivious to the disgust in her eyes.

After a while, the Noble Consort patted his shoulder and spoke in a tender voice, “Your Majesty has been busy for so long, it is time to rest. May I go to the kitchen and see if they can prepare some dishes you enjoy?”

The Emperor sighed contentedly and released her, lowering his voice. “No need to rush. I heard that Kangping went to the Imperial Mausoleum. What are your thoughts?” He played idly with her fingers, seemingly casual yet probing.

Though she disliked his tests, the Noble Consort knew well how to respond calmly. She answered softly, “It is only right for the child to pay respects to her parents; it shows her filial piety. If she did not, would Your Majesty not think her heartless?”

The Emperor smiled carelessly, tightening his embrace and asking seriously, “Do you resent me? After all, it was I who separated you from your own daughter, leaving her motherless to be raised by my mother—the Empress Dowager, who is certainly no gentle old lady.”

His words were both probing and sarcastic, but the Noble Consort’s expression did not change, as if accustomed to his manner. She replied serenely, “It was simply her fate—born to a mother but raised without one. Our bond as mother and daughter is weak. Besides, Your Majesty promised that I could care for her as her aunt; you know well, she appears strong, but her heart is tender.”

Even with so much between them, the Emperor could not, in good conscience, speak ill of Wei Baofu. She was indeed composed, dazzling, as if she bore all her parents’ virtues. The Emperor found it impossible to truly dislike her.

“In the end, I owe you both, unable to let you recognize each other. When she returns, comfort her well. As long as she doesn’t follow the Empress Dowager’s mischief, I am willing to favor her. Raising another daughter is no hardship.”

How much was truth and how much a lie, the Noble Consort understood perfectly. She smiled alluringly, “Look at what Your Majesty says. You are Kangping’s real uncle, I am her true aunt. Together, we are like her parents. If we don’t love her, who will? Don’t say such foolish things.”

She acted as though she were a woman entirely dependent on and trusting her husband. The Emperor, holding her, felt himself to be just an ordinary husband—no Emperor, no Noble Consort—just a pair of lovers.

The Emperor yearned for such affection, and at this moment, he felt he had found it. Thus far, only the Noble Consort had ever made him feel this way.

Having soothed the Emperor, the Noble Consort walked leisurely out of the study, smiling yet with a coldness in her eyes that Qi Zhen noticed. “Let’s visit the kitchen and see what fresh ingredients are available today.”

Qi Zhen glanced discreetly at the servants nearby, then replied with a smile, “The Imperial Kitchen sent over some fine lamb spine, perfect for this weather.” The Noble Consort nodded, “Come with me to take a look.”

The mistress and servant exchanged inconsequential pleasantries, waiting until no one was around before Qi Zhen spoke in a low voice, “News from the mausoleum—Rulan and the Lady spent over an hour alone in a room. The Lady came out with red eyes.”

The Noble Consort sighed, “The child is too clever; she must have learned everything. Whether that is good or bad, I cannot say. I only wish her to grow up safely.” Now, she was her true self, her eyes filled with deep worry.

Qi Zhen comforted her quietly, “Madam, the Lady is not a girl lacking sense. She must understand your pain now, and you cannot bear it all alone. I heard the Lady has much silver; after learning the truth, she can help the Fourth Prince more in future. It’s all for the best.”

The Noble Consort turned and slapped her, scolding in a low voice, “Such words are not for you to say. My sister and I only wish Baofu a peaceful, happy life. We never intended her to take risks. You have no right to speak this way. If you ever disregard rank again, I will not forgive you. You know well how I deal with such matters.”

Qi Zhen fell to her knees, kowtowing and pleading softly, “Forgive me, Madam. I spoke thoughtlessly, with no ill intent—only wishing for you and the Fourth Prince to have an easier time.”

The Noble Consort looked at her coldly, disdaining, “This is the second time. If you ever disrespect Kangping or plot against her, I will take your life. Rulan could easily replace you; I would have no trouble adjusting.”

This made Qi Zhen tremble on her knees. She knew everything; if she could not serve her mistress, she would not survive. “I remember, Madam. I will never offend again. Thank you for sparing me.”

The Noble Consort left without another glance. Her heart was small, reserved only for her family. A servant she could trust and empower, but never allow to overstep.

Wei Baofu returned to the hot spring manor and fell ill that very night. Perhaps it was the shock, or simply exhaustion, but the illness struck fiercely. There was no imperial physician on hand, and Pearl and Linglong were beside themselves with worry.

Looking at Wei Baofu’s pale face, she murmured for her parents in her fevered sleep, making the two hearts ache. Pearl fretted, “What shall we do? The Lady is gravely ill, and without a doctor, I fear she won’t make it.”

Linglong was equally anxious, but tried to remain calm. “I remember when the Empress Dowager had a high fever, the Lady used burning wine to wipe her down and reduce it. Tell the maids and servants to prepare it. I’ll go see if there’s a doctor nearby.”

Ye Feng stood guard outside. Seeing Linglong preparing to search for a doctor, he wanted to accompany her, but Linglong refused, “Guard Ye, it is safest for you to protect the Lady. We must not reverse priorities. I can go alone.”

Ye Feng understood; after all, not everyone in the manor was trustworthy. Should anything happen, Ye Feng’s presence was needed. He did not insist, returning to his post.

Meanwhile, Pearl, reassured by Linglong’s words, sprang into action.

Though there were a few neighboring manors, their masters rarely visited, so doctors were scarce. Linglong knocked at three or four doors without success.

“What now? The Lady cannot fall ill.” Even Linglong, usually composed, was moved to tears. She was about to return to the manor to stay by her Lady’s side when she suddenly heard hoofbeats. Instinctively, she stopped and hid behind a roadside tree.

Rong Yanzong rode at a gallop, dust-covered but showing no sign of fatigue. A veteran of campaigns, his eyes were sharp. Though Linglong hid behind the tree, Rong Yanzong noticed her.

He reined in his horse and slowed, demanding sternly, “Who lurks here in secret?” The military physician Xiao Zhan and Shan Zhu, who followed him, also halted and looked around.

Linglong, hearing the question, looked up. Though embarrassed, she stepped out when she saw his face.

She curtsied properly and explained, “I am a maid from Fuyue Manor ahead. My mistress has caught a chill and suffers a high fever. I am out seeking a doctor. If I have offended, I beg your pardon.”

Linglong was worldly; though unaware of their identities, she noted their clothing and accessories were not those of commoners—only officials of rank could wear such finery—so she explained herself.

Rong Yanzong was not a charitable soul, but neither was he heartless. He owned a manor nearby, and though he had heard Lady Kangping was visiting, he thought little of it; even if he followed, they would not let him see her easily.

Unexpectedly, that evening, the military physician Xiao Zhan sought him out, asking for a quiet place to prepare medicine. In a previous battle, Rong Yanzong had been ambushed—he narrowly won but was poisoned. Fortunately, Xiao Zhan’s skill was superb; most of the poison had been purged, but a final trace remained, requiring a special medicinal guide to clear it. Having finally found it, they hurried to the hot spring manor to resolve the issue.

Rong Yanzong said mildly, “If you trust me, my military physician can examine her.” Xiao Zhan frowned in displeasure, muttering, “Do you ever ask my opinion? Deciding for me as you please? I am not your Shan Zhu.”

Rong Yanzong ignored him, looking straight at Linglong, still unaware she served Lady Kangping.

Linglong was excited. “Thank you, sir! My mistress is inside the manor. Please, come with me.”

Rong Yanzong did not hesitate, following Linglong toward the manor. Xiao Zhan, though annoyed, had no choice but to keep up. Shan Zhu spoke anxiously, “Master, shall I take the horses back to our own manor and have the women prepare food and drink?”

“Yes, yes, Shan Zhu is thoughtful. I have not eaten yet, my stomach is growling.” Rong Yanzong agreed, handing the reins to Shan Zhu. Linglong felt uneasy, having troubled them, and resolved to treat them well in gratitude.