“Beauty (Meiren) Li!”
A young woman in a pale blue brocade gown hurried over to the newcomer who had just been ordered about by Consort Xu. She bent slightly in greeting: “Beauty Li, on the day we entered the palace, I was saved from disgrace thanks to you lending me a gown. I truly don’t know how to repay you.”
Li Yinyao turned, gently helping her up, and replied with humility: “It was nothing more than a small favor. Lady Song, you needn’t dwell on it.”
Song Fu was moved by her kindness. Her family was humble, and it was sheer fortune that she had been chosen for the selection. Because of her poverty, on the very first day, she was treated like a maid by the Zhao family’s young lady. Tea was spilled over her only presentable gown.
The Zhao girl was kin to the Empress Dowager, noble in status, so her deliberate cruelty could not be resisted. But Song Fu was different—if she had lost face before the throne, her entire family would have suffered, and her younger sisters’ prospects for marriage would have been ruined. None of the other candidates would lend her a gown. In despair, even contemplating suicide upon leaving the palace, it was Li Yinyao who gave her a fine dress. That single gown not only saved her dignity but also secured her entry into the palace.
Tears welled in Song Fu’s eyes, though worry soon furrowed her brow:
“Beauty Li, I should not say this, but since you helped me, I must repay you with what I know.”
“My family has a relative who serves as a palace matron. She once told me that matters concerning Consort Jiang are taboo—never to be inquired into. You and I are but newcomers; how could we dare pry into Consort Jiang’s affairs?”
“But if you do not, Consort Xu may make you suffer. I heard that a newcomer was once slandered by her before His Majesty and cast into the Cold Palace. Perhaps it would be safer for you to feign illness for a few days.”
“Though the Household Department may mark you down for it, that is far better than enduring Consort Xu’s punishment.”
Li Yinyao had already seen how ruthless Consort Xu could be—she had read it in the novel. But according to the plot, she still needed to maintain good relations with Xu Qingwan; only then could she meet the Emperor at the upcoming hunting festival. Otherwise, waiting for a summons to the imperial bedchamber might take forever—the male lead Emperor would not call her until much later.
She was just an ordinary office worker who had suddenly transmigrated into the book as its heroine. Naturally, she had to follow the storyline, become the Emperor’s beloved, and live the life of a pampered consort.
Still, Song Fu would be a great ally later in the plot, shielding her from many schemes. Li Yinyao knew she had to cultivate that bond.
Smiling, she carefully adopted the speech of an ancient lady: “Thank you, Lady Song, for your reminder. I will find a way. I heard the hall assigned to you by the Household Department is too dilapidated. I’ll have some things sent over later. The weather is cold these days—do take care not to catch a chill.”
Among the new entrants, Song Fu and three others ranked lowest. But the other three came from wealthier families, who bribed the Household Department for better quarters. Only Song Fu was left with a shabby hall. She had thought to endure it quietly, but Li Yinyao, despite her own modest status, noticed her hardship and offered help.
Song Fu, deeply moved, bowed gratefully: “Thank you, Beauty Li.”
After dealing with Song Fu, Li Yinyao returned to her quarters. She lay on the bed, rubbing her sore back, and complained: “Couldn’t this transmigration have dropped me straight into the pampered‑consort stage? Just a mere ‘Beauty,’ with no illustrious family and no favor. My palace is only slightly better than Song Fu’s, and now I have to scrimp to send her supplies.”
The palace was full of shrewd women, all clinging to noble daughters. Her quarters had nothing fine—every garment bestowed was what others had already picked over.
Earlier, in Consort Xu’s palace, she had truly opened her eyes. No wonder Xu was favored—everything reeked of luxury, like capitalism itself. But if extravagance was the measure, Li Yinyao remembered that in the novel, Consort Jiang was the most lavish of all.
Forget priceless treasures—many unique, one‑of‑a‑kind artifacts, the Emperor always bestowed upon Consort Jiang first. Yet no matter how favored she was, she remained nothing more than a vicious supporting role, destined to be a stepping stone.
Though the novel’s ending had not yet been written, Li Yinyao’s years of web‑novel reading told her the pattern: once Consort Jiang died, she herself would become the Emperor’s true beloved, the most pampered consort in history. Perhaps he would even dismiss the entire harem for her sake.
Still, unlike readers who longed for “one lifetime, one pair,” Li Yinyao rather hoped the Emperor kept his harem. Otherwise, how could she amuse herself by punishing rival consorts? Since Heaven had granted her the chance to transmigrate into the book, she intended to savor the taste of power.
Content, Li Yinyao rolled over, pulled up her quilt, and waited for tomorrow, when she would report Consort Jiang’s affairs to Consort Xu.
The next day.
Jiang Nian had just woken when she noticed something odd about Xiao Tao and Lian Zhi. Their faces were heavy, gloomier even than hers—though she had been avoided by His Majesty for five days straight.
“What’s this? I haven’t lost hope yet, but you two look more worried than me.”
She gazed into the bronze mirror: brows like distant mountains, eyes like autumn waters, lips tinted red. Even in a plain ivory sleeping robe, her beauty was striking—her complexion far brighter than when she had first moved into Yunchong Hall.
That day, after quarreling bitterly with Qi Yi, she had cried hard. But afterward she realized: she could not let his coldness erase all the kindness he had once shown her.
Since she had resolved to change, she must coax him patiently, never retreating at the first obstacle. So she adjusted her mindset and visited Qianqing Palace daily with cheerful determination. Though she was not admitted to his bedchamber, at least she could linger before him—that was progress. In the past, she would not even have been allowed past the palace gates.
Her lips curved as she reassured her maids: “Enough, don’t keep those long faces. Lian Zhi, is the warm porridge I asked you to prepare ready? His Majesty should be returning from court soon—I must hurry to deliver it.”
If she were late, other consorts might seize the chance to curry favor. As she chose her jewels, Lian Zhi knelt beside her and spoke softly: “Your Ladyship, word has just come—this morning the young prince went to Consort Jin’s palace and found Consort Jin and her maidservants… all dead.”
Dead? Jiang Nian froze, the jewels slipping from her hand with a crisp sound.
“How did they die?”
Knowing her mistress’s timid nature, Lian Zhi softened the tale: “They say Consort Jin’s plot to incite the young prince to arson was exposed. Fearing His Majesty’s wrath, she took her own life. Her loyal maids followed her in death. It seems no one noticed until this morning, when the young prince came to visit and found her body. He fainted from shock and is now crying in the Empress Dowager’s palace.”
Jiang Nian had thought Consort Jin’s absence was due to the slap she had given her the other night. She never imagined the woman was dead.
But the matter seemed too strange. Even if exposed, Consort Jin still had the Empress Dowager’s support and Zhao Jing’s powerful backing. How could she simply commit suicide? Yet in the palace, who would dare murder a consort?
Jiang Nian puzzled over it but found no answer. In the end, she let it go. Whatever the truth, Consort Jin’s death was a blessing for her—no longer could she sow discord between her and His Majesty.