Cao Empress, the daughter of Cao Censor, had been married to the current Emperor for over twenty years and given birth to the Eastern Palace heir and the Seventh Princess. The Cao family was powerful yet had produced a line of loyal officials, which was rare.
I really couldn’t understand. I followed her carefully, step by step.
“An’s Lady,” she suddenly stopped and glanced at me. “I sympathize with your situation.” Although she said this, there was no compassion in her eyes, not even a hint of emotion.
“However, sympathy is sympathy. As they say, the greatest unfilial act is to have no descendants. An’s Lord’s parents are not young anymore and have reached the age of enjoying grandchildren. An’s Lord should also have his own heirs. My lady, am I right?” The Empress looked at the peach flower stamens, her expression quite focused.
I nodded. “Your Majesty’s concern for my family affairs is to worry before the world worries and rejoice after the world rejoices. I am extremely grateful. I will remember Your Majesty’s admonition and work hard at home to continue the An family lineage.”
The peach flower stamens before the Empress withered.
She turned her face and said coldly, “As the wife of the Assistant Minister of Personnel, please pay attention to your demeanor.”
I lowered my head. “Your Majesty’s instruction is correct.”
“My lady, I have a distant niece who is elegant, pure, and of good character and appearance, suitable for An’s Lord. Since you cannot bear an heir for the An family, why not follow the example of Chang’e and Heng’e and jointly serve one husband to make up for this deficiency? What do you think, my lady?”
I wanted to respond with my three-word mantra “No way,” but An Jin had urged me not to conflict directly with the Empress. I could only suppress my anger and respond “properly,” “Everything is up to my husband.”
The Empress’s expression slightly relaxed, and she beckoned to two palace maids. “Please invite Miss Miao Yin.”
I was struck like thunder. This Miao Yin couldn’t be the one I knew, could she? It must be just a coincidence!
When I met Xue Miaoyin face to face, I realized that there are no lucky breaks in this world. Xue Miaoyin, whom I thought would be my future sister-in-law, was arranged by our Great Qi Kingdom’s unreliable royal family to be my husband’s wife. The future of the Great Qi Kingdom was indeed a gray and bleak landscape.
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Shock of an Arranged Marriage
The empress left Miaoyin and me in the imperial garden, essentially wanting us to “get along” first.
Miaoyin was somewhat bewildered. After I explained the situation, she opened her mouth wide, her eyebrows furrowed, her entire face twisting into the shape of the character “囧”. It turned out that the empress had mentioned arranging a marriage for her, and she had been pondering how to hint to this distant aunt that she already had a love interest. Yet, unexpectedly, she was matched with her beloved’s brother-in-law.
This pair was quite pitiful. What should have been a heaven-sent match was now about to face tribulation. My older brother had excitedly told me that Xue Yin was actually a girl. I pretended to complain a bit, which made him furrow his eyebrows in anger, causing me to secretly laugh. We had thought everything would naturally fall into place, just waiting for my brother to marry his wife, but now this unexpected turn of events had occurred.
When all was said and done, it was actually because of our involvement. I briefly explained to Miaoyin about the imperial physician’s diagnosis at the Xie Chen banquet that I might be difficult to bear children and the entanglement with the Eastern Palace.
She also felt that the matter was suspicious and unlikely to be as simple as the Eastern Palace trying to steal a wife, with the empress assisting her son.
“Even if the empress indulges the Eastern Palace, wouldn’t His Majesty know about this?” Her words echoed my own doubts. “The current emperor is wise; how could he allow such a thing? It seems more like the entire royal family wants to tear us apart…”
Miaoyin’s reasoning was sound. Moreover, I recalled another layer of complexity. Years ago, when the Seventh Princess was infatuated with An Jin, the emperor had never agreed to their marriage. I had originally thought it was because the emperor had asked An Jin’s opinion and knew he was unwilling. Now, it seemed that wasn’t the case. If they were going to force a marriage eventually, why not grant the princess’s wish instead of arranging Xue Miaoyin, who had absolutely no connection to An Jin?
Was the entire royal family determined to tear us apart? How had our marriage provoked such heavenly anger and human resentment?
Miaoyin comforted me, saying this matter wouldn’t be so simple. An Jin was not someone who could be manipulated, and she would find ways to resolve this marriage. If all else failed, she could elope, absolutely refusing to marry An Jin and become this so-called Hehuang and Nüying.
Her expression was resolute, speaking such decisive words. My future sister-in-law’s optimism instantly brightened my mood, and I even politely greeted the Eastern Palace when encountering him on the way out.
The Eastern Palace was currently touring the garden with his concubines, holding Fei Wu in his arms. When he saw me, he merely nodded with a smile. I had thought that after his previous setback, he would be furious. Unexpectedly, he seemed unperturbed and even more restrained than before, even asking me to send regards to An Jin, as if he had never been the one who tried to steal my wife.
I estimated that after being confronted by An Jin, the Eastern Palace had reflected and finally understood the importance of “keeping a low profile.”
That evening, my meal portion doubled. My father-in-law and An Jin kept adding dishes to my bowl, and even my mother-in-law secretly glanced at my lower abdomen, seemingly misunderstanding something.
An Jin praised my approach before the empress and promised to completely resolve the royal marriage arrangement. No matter how many worries and doubts I had, they were dispelled by his single statement.
He had never failed to keep a promise.
A few days later, during a break, the emperor summoned An Jin and me to the palace.
I knew it was about the marriage arrangement and felt somewhat nervous. However, as we were about to ascend the dragon path in Yijing Hall, An Jin suddenly reached out and held my fist hidden in my sleeve. He separated my clenched fingers and interlaced his own between them, palm to palm.
I looked at him in surprise. His features were shrouded in the perpetual thin mist of the imperial city, and though I couldn’t see clearly, it made me feel at ease. In that moment, I understood his meaning: Don’t be afraid, I’m here.
Just thinking of these four words made my nervousness vanish. As long as he was by my side, I feared nothing.
The empress remained dignified and noble, her expression unreadable. The emperor’s face was benevolent, with two small mustaches, his narrow eyes pausing momentarily on our tightly touching sleeves before his smile remained unchanged.
One was cold and heartless, the other cunning and sly – both equally difficult to deal with. This was my inner thought.
The emperor first exchanged pleasantries, praising our conjugal love as a model of harmony. Then, he meandered through recent weather and popular spring outing spots in Yanfeng City. The irrelevant topics made me drowsy.
This emperor was even more prone to digression than my own father.
An Jin was accustomed to the emperor’s meandering conversation, occasionally responding appropriately and vaguely agreeing.
As the emperor continued, An Jin interjected: “May I ask why Your Majesty has summoned us?”
