Mu Hanyan sat quietly to the side, holding the warm cup of cloud-mist tea, her gaze drifting subtly between Li Qianche and Su Su.
Although she had not been in the palace long, her temperament shaped by her upbringing in a family of doctors was naturally composed and somewhat distant. But she was far from unable to read people.
Having seen countless flows of emotion between patients and their families, she possessed an almost instinctive sensitivity to the slightest changes in human heart and mind.
The Emperor seemed to be casually sipping his tea, occasionally glancing at the scenery outside the pavilion, but the deep, oppressive aura around him and the nearly uncontrollable, repeated glances at Su Su spoke volumes.
His gaze was a silent declaration of inner unrest: complex, tense, analytical, probing, tinged with the annoyance of being ignored, and even… a subtle stubbornness, almost childlike in its refusal to yield, which even he himself had not noticed.
This anger was directed neither at her nor at state affairs. Its source was clear: it was the young Consort Su, who, ever since entering the pavilion, had sat there like a needle on edge, as if she wished she could vanish into a wisp of smoke.
Mu Hanyan lowered her eyes, hiding the faint smile of understanding in her gaze. She realized the truth: this young Emperor had not yet fully understood his own emotions. His inexplicable feelings were not dislike they were… care. They stemmed from the distance she kept, from the unease caused by being unable to grasp her thoughts.
A person used to being intensely observed, suddenly neglected, would naturally feel frustrated. This was not hatred it was affection unspoken, or perhaps simply unwilling to be admitted.
She found it somewhat amusing. In the deep palace, the love and resentment between men and women sometimes resembled a pathological case: the surface and the underlying reality were often entirely opposite.
Su Su could feel Li Qianche’s scorching gaze and the oppressive weight of his displeasure. Her back stiffened even more, her fingertips curled slightly, and she longed to escape this suffocating space immediately. Each breath felt elongated, and the exquisite pastries on the table tasted like wax in her mouth.
She had to constantly remind herself internally to restrain the impulse to rise and take her leave. She could not lose her composure could not give him any reason to flare up.
Amid the chaos of her thoughts, a more urgent concern seized her: in a few days, the Empress Dowager would host the Plum Blossom Viewing Banquet! In her past life, the scheme that had plunged her into ruin had begun under the pretense of this banquet.
Mu Hanyan had suffered a miscarriage, Consort Zhuang had framed her, and the evidence had been irrefutable… She could not make the same mistake again! She had to find a way to avoid it no matter what, she could not attend. Feign illness? Or… Her mind raced, rapidly devising a way to escape, barely noticing the brief silence in the pavilion.
Li Qianche, seeing her so absent-minded, clearly lost in thought, felt the nameless fire in his chest burn even hotter. He forced himself to look away and turned toward Mu Hanyan, deliberately softening his tone:
“Wanpin, the imperial physician advised you to rest and take care of yourself. The Imperial Garden can be windy if you feel cold, return early.”
He watched her, but in his mind, his thoughts went to Pei Xuan. Pei Xuan had grown up with him like a brother, a closest friend.
In their youth at the palace, Pei Xuan had been his study companion, the only person in whose presence he could slightly let down his guard. Whether practicing literature or martial arts, Pei Xuan was always by his side.
Now, Pei Xuan risked his life to eliminate remaining southwestern enemies and investigate deeper secrets, acting as a spy. This matter was crucial to the stability of the court and strictly confidential.
It was precisely for this reason that he had brought Mu Hanyan into the palace nominally as a concubine, but in reality for protection: to safeguard his dear friend’s beloved, and to stabilize Pei Xuan’s heart. A few days ago, Mu Hanyan had fainted in the Imperial Study due to excessive worry… These things could not be spoken aloud, especially not in front of Su Su.
“I thank Your Majesty for your concern. I do not feel cold,” Mu Hanyan replied with a slight nod. She had just been discussing Pei Xuan’s situation in the southwest with the Emperor, a conversation interrupted by Su Su’s arrival.
The Emperor’s seemingly casual remark was in fact a continuation of that prior topic a reassurance, and a reminder that by taking care of her health, she was supporting Pei Xuan. She understood the implication perfectly.
Su Su, eyes lowered, also heard Li Qianche’s concern for Mu Hanyan. The natural warmth of his care formed a sharp contrast to the icy atmosphere directed at her. She felt no jealousy only a chilling recognition: this was the difference between being loved and not loved. One received attentive concern; the other, cold scrutiny.
Unbeknownst to them, the conversation in Qin Fang Pavilion had already been observed by a pair of eyes hiding behind a nearby rock.
It was a palace maid from Changxiu Palace. Carefully concealed, she watched the scene, a trace of smugness appearing on her face, before she silently retreated along the path she came, hurrying to report to Consort Zhuang.
After a long silence, Su Su gathered her courage to take her leave and end this ordeal but before she could speak, a soft, deliberately slightly raised voice rang out:
“I pay my respects to Your Majesty! From afar, it seemed to be the Emperor and two young sisters here never thought it really was! Such a fine mood, how could you leave me out of the view?”
Su Su’s heart tightened sharply.
Before the words even ended, Consort Zhuang appeared, dressed in a bright rose-red palace robe, adorned with jewels, lightly supported by her maid, moving with graceful poise. Her face bore a radiant smile, but her gaze was like a poisoned needle, darting swiftly across…
Their gazes swept over Su Su and Mu Hanyan, finally fixing firmly on Su Su’s face.
Upon seeing her enter, Su Su and Mu Hanyan, following palace etiquette, rose from the stone benches, lowered their heads, and performed their greeting: “We pay our respects to Consort Zhuang.”
Consort Zhuang paused mid-step, her eyes carrying an undisguised air of superiority. She slowly swept her gaze over the bowed heads of the two, taking in Su Su who had once stood on equal footing with her, even outshone her in prominence and Mu Hanyan, now basking in the Emperor’s favor. Both were now forced to stand properly before her, heads lowered in deference. The resentment Consort Zhuang had long harbored over Su Su’s promotion finally eased slightly, and the corner of her lips lifted into a controlled, self-satisfied smile. This tangible sense of dominance brought by her status was far more gratifying than any verbal insult could ever be.
“Rise,” she said at last, her tone leisurely, laced with a condescending generosity. Her gaze first swept quickly over Li Qianche, carrying a barely perceptible hint of flattery. But seeing him looking at Su Su, her eyes poisoned, sharp as needles fixed once again firmly on Su Su herself.
“It’s been a few days, and Consort Su, your complexion… it seems you’ve recovered quite a bit. I suppose even though Changxin Palace is a bit remote, it does seem to be good for one’s health.” She deliberately emphasized the word “remote,” mocking Su Su’s relegation to that distant corner.
Su Su did not so much as lift her eyelids, replying lightly: “Consort Zhuang, your praise is most gracious.”
Seeing her so calm, Consort Zhuang’s anger flared, but her smile grew even more radiant: “Now that I think of it, your promotion this time is thanks to the Emperor’s grace. Yet I’ve heard that in Changxin Palace, you’ve been raising chickens and growing vegetables. Those who know will say you are ‘experiencing the common life,’ and those who don’t might think our Imperial Household is cruelly treating you, forcing a palace consort to handle such lowly chores herself! Isn’t that laughable?”
She covered her mouth with a light laugh, the malice in her eyes nearly spilling over. The air in the pavilion immediately grew colder. Chunlan and Qiuju, standing behind Su Su, were so angry their faces had gone pale, yet they dared not speak.
Li Qianche’s hand, holding his teacup, froze for a moment. He had naturally heard Consort Zhuang’s extremely cutting words. Instinctively, he looked at Su Su, and a faint, almost imperceptible stir of expectation rose in his heart expectation that she would react as she once had: wronged, her eyes reddened as she looked at him, even if only with a hint of pleading or seeking help.