Jiang Nian froze stiffly in place, unable to utter a sound.
A year ago, when many in the palace were stricken with the cold plague, her frail body suffered especially badly. Qi Yi had brought her into Qianqing Palace to nurse her carefully. Though ministers petitioned, fearing she might endanger the imperial health, Qi Yi refused to send her away. Yet in her illness, she listened to Consort Jin and the Empress Dowager’s instigations, believing Qi Yi had deliberately caused her sickness to confine her. She smashed the rare medicines brought for her, cursed Qi Yi to his face, and declared she would rather die in a pigsty than spend a single night in Qianqing Palace.
Later, Qi Yi softened and saved her life, but their relationship had reached its breaking point.
Qi Yi’s gaze swept over her rigid back. His lids lowered, his voice cold: “Rong Chengguang, take Consort Jiang to Rongxi Hall. All affairs as usual.”
Rongxi Hall—its name sounded noble, but it lay far from Qi Yi’s bedchamber, scarcely better than Fu Garden, perhaps even worse. At least Fu Garden still had the crabapple tree Qi Yi once planted to please her.
The black dragon robe brushed past. Jiang Nian, both angry and aggrieved, rose to question him: “Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager, Consort Jin, and Zhao Jing sought my life, setting fire to Fu Garden. You gave them no punishment, and now you send me to a remote hall—do you mean for me to be bullied to death by them? If that is truly so, why not grant me three feet of white silk? I will obediently take my own life, sparing Your Majesty the trouble of being vexed by me!”
Qianqing Palace fell silent. Rong Chengguang felt the chill seep into his bones and dropped to his knees first, prostrating at the emperor’s side. The other attendants hurried to kneel as well.
Even the usually bold Xiao Tao trembled, tugging at her mistress’s robe and whispering: “Your Ladyship, please don’t be rash.”
Jiang Nian regained some sense, realizing she had indeed been reckless—but she could not help herself.
In the past, she had committed many wrongs and owed Qi Yi much. Thus, in Fu Garden, she endured the servants’ insults, the Household Department’s disdain, even the Empress Dowager’s punishments. Her sins were her retribution—she accepted that.
Last night’s fire had been deliberate, yet she had no certainty. If Qi Yi had not come, she might well have perished. But he did come. So she thought—perhaps Qi Yi still held some shred of feeling for her.
Yet today, he banished her to a distant hall, leaving her to the Empress Dowager and Consort Jin’s torment. Perhaps she had once been spoiled by Qi Yi’s indulgence, for now she could not bear even the slightest neglect.
Tears welled in her eyes; she wanted to complain further, but was cut short.
“Why should I punish them?” Qi Yi turned, his tone colder than snow, distant and detached: “Consort Jiang, I told you long ago—your life or death is all that concerns me. As for whether you live as a human or a ghost…”
“I will no longer concern myself.”
“Have you confirmed it—Consort Jiang truly resides in Yunchong Hall?”
Xia Wei hesitated, glancing at her mistress seated in the main seat.
“I questioned the maids of Yunchong Hall and even Grand Eunuch Rong’s nephew. His Majesty had originally arranged for Consort Jiang to live in Rongxi Hall, but she suddenly acted as if possessed, insisting on staying closer to His Majesty in Yunchong Hall. Her manner was almost as if…”
Her faltering words grated on the nerves. Xu Qingwan’s brows tightened, and she snapped: “Speak plainly! Must I order someone to pry open your mouth before you dare to speak?”
Xia Wei trembled, hastily kowtowing: “Forgive me, My Lady. It is only what the palace servants say—that Consort Jiang once told Consort Jin she would rather rely on His Majesty than on the young prince. Now she has moved into Yunchong Hall, lingering before His Majesty daily, as though seeking favor.”
The teacup in Xu Qingwan’s hand sank heavily. For once, her usual smile faded.
The scandal at Fu Garden had spread like wildfire. Many newly entered consorts, unsettled, now flocked to her, flattering and begging her to explain what sort of person Consort Jiang truly was.
She disdained these upstarts. After all, Xu Qingwan was no ordinary newcomer—one year ago, she had entered the palace with her father, and by beauty alone was chosen by His Majesty. Since then, she had basked in constant favor, ranked among the Four Consorts. Her family, her looks—both were of the highest order. These novices were, in her eyes, little more than servants with the right to attend her. Were it not for her rank, which required her to set an example, she would have ordered them driven out.
As for Consort Jiang, Xu Qingwan had never met her. By the time she entered the palace, His Majesty and Consort Jiang were already at odds, the latter confined daily. To learn more, one had to ask the senior consorts.
But trudging through snow to exchange courtesies with others—such lowering of status was beneath her. Besides, Xia Wei’s report was only that Consort Jiang sought favor, not that His Majesty cherished her.
It seemed to Xu Qingwan that Jiang Nian was merely playing at “feigned indifference to entice pursuit,” only to find herself despised, and now scrambling to regain favor.
She had seen such tricks before—at fourteen, in her father’s household, Sixth Concubine had tried the same. Refusing his touch at first, she was eventually cast into a shabby courtyard. Within a month, she was begging to share his bed. A few times later, he tired of her completely. Now she lived in ruin, worse off than the Xu family’s servants.
With that precedent, Xu Qingwan scoffed: “Just an aging, faded consort—what is there to fuss about?”
“Enough.” She picked out one of the newcomers who seemed quick-witted. “You—go inquire further about Consort Jiang. Report back to me tomorrow.”
Her imperious tone was like ordering a household maid. Even the Empress herself did not treat them so lightly. These new consorts were all once pampered daughters of noble houses, and some bristled at Xu Qingwan’s arrogance.
But Xu Qingwan was in high favor; they were powerless. Faces stiff with discomfort, they turned to watch the chosen girl, expecting her humiliation.
To their surprise, the girl’s expression remained calm. She bowed properly, answered without a trace of fluster: “Yes, Consort Xu.”