Yan Congzheng, weary and dust-streaked, his face etched with fatigue, bore witness to the emperor's grave illness and the crown prince's ascendancy, which had only intensified his burdens. Still clad in his imperial guard uniform, sword at his waist, he strode purposefully into the inner chamber, placing a parcel on the desk with a heavy voice:"Dragon's blood, borrowed from the palace."
Dragon's blood, a rare medicinal herb from the far south, was renowned for its properties to invigorate blood circulation, alleviate pain, resolve bruising, staunch bleeding, and promote tissue regeneration. The imperial physician had scoured the capital for superior dragon's blood to treat Li Chen's ailment but found none. The apothecary claimed all prime stocks had been purchased by a strikingly beautiful young lady. Li Chen needed no guesswork—it was Ye Jiao. He had no intention of seeking aid from the palace and resigned himself to enduring the pain until the new shipment arrived. Unexpectedly, Yan Congzheng had learned of this and brought the medicine himself.
A faint smile forced its way onto Li Chen's pale face:"Thank you for your trouble."
Yan Congzheng's expression stiffened. Gazing at the motionless Li Chen resting in bed, he pressed his lips together and warned in a low voice:"Do not provoke her again."
Before arriving, Yan Congzheng had been irate. Yet seeing his sister, Yan Shuangxu, weeping outside the hall, and the grievous state of his brother-in-law, stirred a complex mix of emotions. Ye Jiao was a resolute and spirited woman, one who exacted retribution without mercy. Li Chen's current plight was a direct consequence of his actions at the Circular Mound Altar. Despite Yan Congzheng's admonitions, they had evidently fallen on deaf ears.
"It won't happen again," Li Chen murmured weakly from beneath the silk quilt, "The crown prince has taken power. It's a blessing we are still alive, let alone dare to hope for more."
Throughout history, princes who failed in succession struggles never fared well. Yan Congzheng's features softened, betraying a hint of compassion. Sensing this shift, Li Chen commanded:"Bring my son here."
Li Beichen, the legitimate eldest son of the Prince of Wei, nicknamed Hua Ge'er, was named after the Analects phrase: "Govern with virtue, like the North Star, remaining in its place while all other stars revolve around it." From a young age, he adored his uncle and often followed Yan Congzheng around, who cherished the boy dearly. Though only seven, his visage resembled Yan Shuangxu's, blending youthful vigor with a natural gentleness. His round eyes sparkled with intelligence.
"Hua Ge'er," Li Chen instructed, "Kneel and kowtow to your uncle."
"What are you doing?" Yan Congzheng stepped back, puzzled.
"Beg your uncle," Li Chen ordered, "Plead for his protection so you may live to see your eighteenth year."
Obediently, Li Beichen repeated his father's words, but before he finished, Yan Congzheng pulled him up.
"I protect you—do I need you to beg?" he scolded with a mix of frustration and pity. "Rest assured, our family will be safe. None of you will come to harm."
Standing in the Prince of Wei's bedchamber, a sense of duty compelled Yan Congzheng to voice this reassurance. Yet the moment he spoke, an unseen mire seemed to clutch him, pinning his legs as if weighted with lead.
Tears shimmered in Li Chen's eyes as he watched, nodding with quiet gratitude:"Congzheng, thank you."
"For my sister," Yan Congzheng murmured, bowing briefly before hastening away, as if lingering would plunge him into darkness.
"Father…" Li Beichen approached the bedside, wiping tears. Though he scarcely grasped the adult words, he sensed his father was showing weakness to his uncle. Yet his father was a prince—was their family in jeopardy?
Li Chen only smiled gently, patting his son's hand:"Fear not, Hua Ge'er. I was jesting with your uncle."
Indeed, it was a jest. He could show vulnerability to the crown prince, but never surrender. As for Yan Congzheng… the siblings were alike—soft-hearted and easily outwitted.
Emerging from the Prince of Wei's mansion, Yan Congzheng quickened his pace as if fleeing an unseen threat. At the side gate, he spotted the steward escorting a lady who hastened inside. The woman courteously veiled her face and stepped aside upon seeing Yan Congzheng. Who would dare disturb a sick prince? Judging by the steward's familiarity with her, Yan Congzheng's suspicion grew. He averted his gaze, moving toward the market street, yet in that brief encounter, he memorized her details: a flowing blue silk gown, faint unfamiliar fragrance, measured steps, elegant demeanor, a subtle lift of the chin, and a multicolored gemstone bracelet revealed as she concealed her face.
Such taste in jewelry, tall stature, and enigmatic grace—could it be…?
A sudden gust stirred the sword at Yan Congzheng's waist, humming softly. He spun around, a flash of lightning illuminating his pale face. Gesang Meiduo—the Tibetan princess. Why would she visit the Prince of Wei so late at night?
Yan Congzheng instinctively stepped toward the gate, where the sentry greeted him:"Deputy Commander, did you drop something?"
He halted, suppressing his urge to pry, and shook his head:"Nothing. Tell Hua Ge'er that I'll teach him archery tomorrow at noon."
The sentry bowed, and Yan Congzheng turned, his expression instantly darkening.
Spring nights shortened gradually, and the news of the crown prince's investiture spread through the city with the ringing of bells and drums. On his first day at the new office, all went smoothly.
The Armory Department managed weapons, armor, and ceremonial gear—one of four divisions under the Ministry of War. Ye Jiao, holding the post of Langzhong in the Armory, acquainted herself with her superiors and carefully handed over the warehouse and accounts with her predecessor.
At noon, just as she prepared to eat casually on the street, a colleague beckoned her over: a palace maid had been waiting outside for an hour. Ye Jiao approached; the maid presented a purple card and bowed:"Lady Shunpin summons you."
Shunpin, Li Ce's birth mother.
"Only for me?" Ye Jiao inquired."I'm not certain," replied the maid. "The lady said if you're indisposed today, you may come another day."
"Let's go. I'm available." Ye Jiao took a few steps, then added, "Wait at the palace gate. I'll return home first."
A formal first meeting required preparation, and she hoped to visit the ailing noble as well. Her gifts were a set of exquisite headpieces, a box of Changbai Mountain ginseng, and pastries handmade by her sister—both valuable and symbolic of filial respect.
Lady Shunpin accepted the presents with a radiant smile, speaking with gentle mirth despite the slow cadence and slight asymmetry of her lips—a lingering effect of years of mental affliction, though the imperial physician assured that regular acupuncture would eventually restore her facial nerves.
Shunpin invited Ye Jiao to dine. Starved, Ye Jiao eagerly eyed the first dish:"I've been craving braised pig's trotters! I didn't expect to find them in the palace."
Shunpin served her a whole piece, smiling:"Try it. Is it as good as the trotters from Xishi Market?"
Ye Jiao bit delicately, and the aroma, tenderness, and juiciness immediately delighted her."Your Highness, this is indeed the taste of Xishi Market's trotters!"
Shunpin beamed, while a palace maid interjected:"Miss Ye, this dish was painstakingly learned by our lady from Xishi's cook, who came here to teach for half a day before preparing it."
"Mind your tongue!" Shunpin chided with a laugh, leaving Ye Jiao speechless.
Shunpin continued:"But the tofu pudding… I heard you favored the one from Qian County, so I sent someone to buy it. The rest I made myself—the Yellow River carp, the pine pollen-stuffed stomach, and more…" She listed numerous dishes, all favorites of Ye Jiao.
"Your Highness," Ye Jiao set down her chopsticks, "why go to such trouble for me?"
"Miss Ye," Shunpin gazed sincerely, "I know you were born in the Duke of Anguo's mansion, pampered and lacking for nothing. I have my motives in preparing these meals: first, to thank you for saving my life; second, to bind you here with these dishes, so you will come to favor me."
Ye Jiao clasped Shunpin's hand, nodding earnestly despite the lump of meat in her throat."Your Highness," she solemnly assured, "your purpose is fulfilled."
What better solace than a sumptuous feast? For a fleeting moment, Ye Jiao wished to make the palace her home, to savor Lady Shunpin's cooking every day.
Sated, Ye Jiao left Yunxue Pavilion. Familiar with the palace pathways, she paused upon reaching the corridor nearest to Zichen Hall, glancing at the imperial residence."How is His Majesty?" she asked the attendant guiding her.
The attendant, not of Yunxue Pavilion but merely a guide, answered cautiously:"I do not know."
"Tell me," Ye Jiao slowed her pace deliberately, "I am well acquainted with your Chief Steward."
The attendant remained tight-lipped, evidently annoyed at Ye Jiao's slow pace.
At the palace gate, as Ye Jiao prepared to thank her guide, silver coins still in hand, the attendant abruptly turned, spitting disdainfully:"Who do you think you are, daring to inquire after His Majesty's health?"
"Who are you calling out?" Ye Jiao stepped forward, blocked by the imperial guards. Had they not been at the palace gate, a fight would surely have ensued. Such scorn was unbearable.
Fuming, Ye Jiao strode away, ignoring the guards. She vowed to return soon to find the truth.
Outside, spring twilight deepened, and the moon sailed silently above the Forbidden City's golden rooftops. A new era was dawning.