“I truly regrets, truly,” Emperor Hong held my hand, his eyes misty, his face sorrowful. “If I had tried to prevent your mother empress’s marriage, she would not have married your father consort; if she had not done so, she would not have been neglected in the inner palace and had her political power seized; if your father consort had not seized political power, he would not have had the opportunity to rebel; if he had not rebelled, your mother empress would not have fled…”
I had heard this heartfelt speech eighteen times already. Emperor Hong always began our daily conversations with this. Initially, I felt deeply sad, but now, whenever I hear “I truly regrets,” I unconsciously drift off.
No wonder the princes and princesses quickly find excuses to leave after paying their respects. Who would have thought this gentle and humble Emperor Hong was such a chatterbox in private? I have a father who also goes off-topic when discussing historical events, so I’m accustomed to handling such situations. Emperor Hong was delighted that I was willing to keep him company.
Emperor Hong’s children had established their own residences outside the palace, but I was granted residence in the ** Palace, traditionally for South Rui’s heir apparent. This clearly indicated that Emperor Hong viewed me as the heir. He also hired two teachers to instruct me in royal etiquette and governance principles.
Although I didn’t feel suitable for governance and found mid-career learning difficult, I couldn’t refuse Emperor Hong’s kindness and attended classes with the two scholars, though I found the coursework overwhelming.
Emperor Hong’s harem consisted of a few concubines, three princesses, and one prince. The three princesses and the fourth prince had been granted territories and would soon depart, while the fifth princess was married to Da Qi. Only the second princess, Jiang Yun Qiao, remained without a territory.
Jiang Yun Qiao, two years my senior, had been groomed for the heir’s position. Had I not been found, it would have been hers. Yet, she seemed indifferent to that status and often accompanied me around Feng Zhu City.
I kept the secret of the fifth princess to myself, not disclosing it to Emperor Hong. While the second princess was my relative, the politics of the royal family were complicated, and I couldn’t fully trust them. Thus, I silently apologized to the fifth princess, waiting for the right moment to bring her back.
Since my arrival in South Rui, I’ve been cautious and observant. I don’t desire to be empress but must protect myself and my family and reunite with An Jin. If gaining power is necessary, then I must compete.
Was Emperor Hong’s intention in finding me truly just familial affection? Despite my explanations that I had no interest in being the heir and wanted a quiet life with my family, he insisted on granting me the palace and proclaimed me as the next heir. Was there a hidden scheme?
Escape was impossible. With Emperor Hong so committed to restoring me to the throne, if his intentions were genuine, I couldn’t refuse; if it was a plot, I couldn’t escape. My only option was to proceed cautiously, following his arrangements while staying vigilant.
Assuming Emperor Hong truly had no ulterior motives and genuinely wanted to return the throne to the daughter of Emperor Xuan, I would face potential threats, primarily from Jiang Yun Qiao. Although she appeared normal, I was skeptical of surface appearances due to my experiences with royal family hypocrisy. Given that Jiang often visited me, I planned to see what she might be concealing.
Jiang Yun Qiao resided in the Zhao Yue Princess Residence, known for its rare birds and exotic beasts. She was fond of these animals and well-known throughout Feng Zhu City. Her husband, surnamed Cen, was the Grand Counselor’s son and was married to her by imperial decree. He was a gentle man who, despite his background, chose to manage the household and raise their son rather than pursue an official career, proving to be a supportive partner.
I had initially thought she had feelings for General Shen, but it turned out she was married with a son. When I brought up my speculation, she laughed it off, insisting they were merely friends. Although she could take a side consort as a princess, she seemed focused entirely on her beloved animals.
Since my arrival in South Rui, she had received less attention and seemed more relaxed, often inviting me to play with Yuan Xiang and Xiao Huang in her residence among the animals.
Yuan Xiang quickly became friends with several foxes and dogs in the princess’s residence, spending entire days playing and reluctant to return home. Xiao Huang fell in love with Jiang Yun Qiao’s favorite white peacock, constantly following its tail feathers and bringing fruits to curry favor, which made me cringe.
Not only did it cross species boundaries, but it was also enamored with a male peacock. I returned home and earnestly educated Xiao Huang. The next time we visited the princess’s residence, it initially restrained itself, casting plaintive glances at the white peacock, Snow Encounter. Just as I felt relieved, the peacock shook its feathers, and Xiao Huang disregarded my obstruction, scampering after it. The peacock walked away proudly, ignoring Xiao Huang completely.
Xiao Huang returned dejectedly to Yuan Xiang, listless. Jiang Yun Qiao observed this scene and sighed: “No wonder Xiao Huang would like her. Xue Yu is indeed beautiful. For it, perhaps Xue Yu is an unattainable divine bird, knowing it cannot be obtained, yet still deeply infatuated.” Her tone and expression were somewhat unusual.
As I was about to ask, I heard a soft call: “Mother, Aunt.”
Yun Qiao’s six-year-old son A Fu ran over, diving into her arms and kissing her face. “Mother, A Fu wants tea too.”
The child, in a bright red wool cloak and a deep red tiger-head hat, looked like a red fruit. The imperial consort, followed by a wet nurse, caught up and smiled at Jiang Yun Qiao: “This child insisted on finding you, so I had to bring him. We didn’t disturb you, did we?”
Jiang Yun Qiao smiled softly, “It’s fine.”
I also smiled at the imperial consort, indicating no problem. Despite years of marriage, the couple remained polite. It was strange, given Jiang Yun Qiao’s temperament; she didn’t seem the type to treat her husband with such distant respect.
I took a tea cake from the table and offered it to A Fu. He caught it, grinning and revealing an adorable dimple. “Thank you, Aunt.”
I picked him up, wiped the crumbs from his mouth, and gave him a sip of tea. Jiang Yun Qiao watched and smiled, “A Yao likes children? You should have more in the future.”
I was slightly stunned, thinking of An Jin. Where would he be now? Would he remember me? When would we reunite?
If we could reunite, I would be content even without children.
Jiang Yun Qiao, seeing me lost in thought, signaled for the imperial consort and wet nurse to take A Fu away. Once they left, she leaned close and asked with concern, “I heard An Daren’s whereabouts are still unknown. A Yao, rest assured, we’ve sent people to search in Xi Liang and Da Qi Kingdom, and we believe news will come soon.”
I forced a smile. “Thank you for your trouble.”
“What are you talking about?” Jiang Yun Qiao waved her hand. “We’re family. Your matters are my matters.” She then whispered, “Fortunately, we found you and fulfilled Father Emperor’s wish, so I can enjoy time with my darlings. You know I prefer dealing with these birds and beasts rather than court affairs.” She winked at me. “It’ll be tough for you from now on.”
Was she indicating she had no intention of competing for the throne? Did I show my wariness so obviously?
I smiled awkwardly, “Actually, I don’t want to—”
