Wei Linxia reassured her mother that Xi Linxuan would resign from the Crown Prince position upon their return to the capital. This offered Lady Wei some relief.
Reluctantly, the group left Huo for the capital two days later. At the last step of the mounting stone, Wei Linxia looked back at her mother and met Xi Zhaoting’s gaze. She offered a dignified smile, entered the carriage, and lowered the curtain. Before settling in, she noticed another scrutinizing gaze. Wei Linxia held her daughter on her lap, deliberately ignoring it.
“Indeed, one should look at an old friend with new eyes after three days apart,” the person said with a hint of sourness.
“Is the Prince praising the King of Huo? This concubine feels the same; he has become much more composed,” Wei Linxia replied.
“Hmph.”
“What is the Prince hmph-ing about?” Wei Linxia asked innocently.
The person turned away, pretending not to hear her while Wei Linxia played with her daughter, smiling subtly. Only when Huo City was reduced to a black dot did he turn back and hmph again.
Huo City was far from the capital, but to Wei Linxia, it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. The eleventh prince, born to a beautiful mother, came to welcome them. Upon entering the palace, they were told to rest in the Eastern Palace. In the warm spring weather, Wei Linxia’s heart turned cold. She squeezed Xi Linxuan’s hand, and he returned a reassuring smile: “It will all pass.”
A decade after returning to the capital, the Eastern Palace was deserted. In the vast palace, only Xi Yaya’s innocent laughter echoed.
Xi Linxuan solemnly wrote a memorial to the emperor via a eunuch. Watching him place it in a vermilion box, Wei Linxia’s hanging heart slowly relaxed. Her husband’s memorial about the Crown Prince, who was almost killed in a foreign land, should please Emperor Yan.
She didn’t truly hope for a fertile fief; wherever they were, as long as they had a residence, she would be content.
The wait was longer than Wei Linxia expected, making her doubt whether Xi Linxuan’s memorial had been delivered or if Emperor Yan simply didn’t want to open it.
On a warm April night, Wei Linxia lay on her side, seeing moonlight through the thick bamboo curtain but feeling hopeless.
Suddenly, a long, ominous sound broke the silence, startling Wei Linxia into sitting up. It was the sound of a cloud board, played only when someone in the palace had died. Xi Linxuan also awoke, draping a piece of clothing over her: “Don’t catch a cold.”
“In the palace…”
“Perhaps just an old imperial concubine has passed away,” Xi Linxuan said casually, reflecting his familiarity with such sounds from growing up in the palace.
Soon, eunuchs’ sharp voices carried shocking news: someone had died, and it was the Empress.
Due to the Empress’s grand funeral, Wei Linxia’s wait extended by three months. When the white decorations were finally removed, the vermilion box containing Xi Linxuan’s memorial was solemnly returned by palace eunuchs. Upon opening it, they found only a small pile of ash—its meaning self-evident.
To Wei Linxia, the ash symbolized her hopes being burned in a bronze basin.
After that, Xi Linxuan attended court more often, while the Eastern Palace remained quiet.
Wei Lindong understood that people came and went, but she remained isolated within the inner palace, feeling that some things were beyond her control.
Her daughter, Xi Yaya, had grown, exhibiting a carefree personality unlike her parents. After visiting her grandmother in the palace, she was restless and smeared something on half her cheek. Wei Lindong wiped her clean with a silk handkerchief.
“Just because he raised her for a year, how did she become so carefree? Xi Yaya, you’re really good at learning the wrong things.” Wei Lindong tapped her daughter’s forehead. The little girl thought it was a game and playfully tapped back with her tiny finger.
Upon seeing her mother’s amused expression, Xi Linxuan, now able to walk without a wheelchair, looked increasingly elegant and handsome. Wei Lindong inquired, “Is there something dirty on your mother’s face?”
Wei Lindong remarked that Her Majesty had missed Xi Linxuan, but with a granddaughter now, she was less concerned about him. He opened his mouth as if to speak but paused, knowing that some things were inevitable and explanations were unnecessary.
Now, they, or rather all the princes, were merely chess pieces in the power struggle between the Emperor and the court officials.
“Wei Shenbi, have you learned to cook?” Xi Linxuan asked suddenly.
“With so many people in the Eastern Palace, why would I need to cook? Besides, I have this little demon to watch, and there’s plenty of time. But Your Highness, haven’t you been too busy lately? Your complexion doesn’t look good. I’ll have the kitchen prepare some ginseng soup for you,” Wei Lindong replied.
“No excuses. Learn culinary skills properly,” Xi Linxuan said, holding their daughter, “Don’t let her grow up without a good role model.”
Wei Lindong tried cooking a few times but found she had little talent. Stubborn, she returned to the kitchen but found the smell of oil and smoke made her retch. Xi Yaya thought this was a new game and imitated her. During a meal, Xi Linxuan saw this and, thinking his daughter was unwell, hurriedly called a royal physician. It turned out the little girl was fine – it was her mother who was experiencing symptoms.
Xi Linxuan was overjoyed, spinning Wei Lindong around on the ground: “This time, we won’t let my brother-in-law name the child.”
Wei Lindong was also happy.
She had always hoped to have several children, and this child could be born in a stable environment, allowing her to make up for her shortcomings with Yaya.
The pregnancy was easier this time, and her joy grew daily. Wei Lindong often visited her mother-in-law in the palace, who wanted her to find happiness to be a filial daughter-in-law. One day, while chatting with her mother-in-law, Xi Yaya was chasing a colorful mountain pheasant in the courtyard. The panicked pheasant ran towards the gate, and Wei Lindong watched as Yaya bumped into a tall, dark figure and pushed him away with her dirty hands.
“Your… Your Majesty…” Fan Meiren, nervous from not seeing the Emperor for a long time, said.
“Not at all like a princess, more like a wild mountain monkey,” the unmoved figure replied.
“This concubine pays respects to Your Majesty,” Fan Meiren pulled Wei Lindong down to kneel.
The Emperor, somewhat impatient, ignored them and lifted Xi Yaya to meet his gaze: “Unruly. Taiping, take her back and discipline her.”
An old eunuch bent to take the child, who then cried out, speaking her first word: “Mother!”
Wei Lindong’s journey back to the Eastern Palace was chaotic. On a late summer day, her hands were cold with fear, and she harbored an unprecedented hatred for the lofty figure of the emperor.
How could she and Xi Linxuan act to please him? Did he want their family completely destroyed? Emperor, if you harm my daughter, I swear I will repay you a hundredfold.
The Eastern Palace was quiet, with cicadas calling incessantly in the heat. Wei Lindong returned to her hall and sat down. Perhaps her unease was sensed by the child in her womb; her stomach had been uncomfortable throughout the journey. A palace maid cautiously asked if she wanted a royal physician, but Wei Lindong just wanted to be alone and waved her away.
She felt regret for not leaving Yaya with Wei Fenzheng; at least they would have been safer. How could they handle this situation now?
Before she could dwell further, a maid announced that Old Madam Wu wanted to see her. Initially reluctant to meet, Wei Lindong remembered the old lady hadn’t been well recently and thought she might be homesick. When they met, the old lady seemed fine and asked about Xi Yaya.
