As soon as Zhao Jing left, Jiang Nian helped Xiao Tao inside and laid her down on the couch. Lifting the hem of her robe, she revealed a back covered in countless wounds—blood streaming, flesh torn.
Seeing Xiao Tao’s pale lips, Jiang Nian wished she could slap herself. In her dream, she had coldly watched Xiao Tao being beaten to death by Zhao Jing. Yet Xiao Tao had been her companion since childhood—almost like a sister.
In her life, few had ever truly cared for her. Aside from Qi Yi, there were only Xiao Tao and Lian Zhi. And yet, she had repeatedly hurt those who loved her, even driving them to their deaths.
Staring helplessly at Xiao Tao’s mangled back, Jiang Nian froze. Xiao Tao, feeling it improper to lie on her mistress’s couch, tried to rise.
“Your Ladyship, I’m fine. This isn’t proper.” To Xiao Tao, her mistress was like a goddess. For a mere maid to receive such protection was already a blessing beyond measure. To lie on her couch was surely to shorten her own life.
Jiang Nian sniffled, pressing her back down, scolding with tenderness:
“When I tell you to lie down, you lie down! Have you stopped listening to me altogether?”
Having grown up with her mistress, Xiao Tao knew her temper well. At that sharp rebuke, she forgot all notions of rank and etiquette, obediently lying back.
After the medicine was applied, Xiao Tao recalled the young prince’s words before leaving and apologized guiltily: “Today’s trouble was all my fault. That’s why His Highness treated you so. I am willing to accept punishment.”
Punishment? One foster son who nearly drowned her and blocked the imperial physician from saving her, versus a maid who risked her life to protect her. She had truly been blinded by folly before, to have chosen so wrongly. Fortunately, Heaven had granted her a chance to awaken. She would never again watch her dearest ones die with hatred in their hearts, nor suffer the fate of being burned alive as in her dream.
She had to live—live well.
The harem was vast. She had no powerful family, no extraordinary talent. To survive until now, she had relied only on Qi Yi’s fleeting tenderness. Yet she had done so many things to wound him.
Would Qi Yi still forgive her?
Meanwhile, Zhao Jing stormed into Jingcui Pavilion, clutching a broken whip, eyes red. Consort Jin, just finished with her meal, was startled to see the disheveled young prince.
“Jing’er, what happened? Who dared lay a hand on you?”
Still a child, Zhao Jing had just swallowed bitter humiliation. Now, comforted by his favorite concubine, he burst into tears: “It’s all Consort Jiang’s fault! She actually let a servant bully me. I’ll make her pay!”
Consort Jin was not favored in the palace; her rank depended entirely on the Empress Dowager’s patronage. Following the Empress Dowager’s orders, she had deliberately befriended Consort Jiang while secretly poisoning Zhao Jing’s mind against her, pushing Consort Jiang into disgrace. But now, seeing Zhao Jing cry so fiercely, his whip reduced to a stub, a flicker of doubt crossed her eyes. She had seen Consort Jiang’s devotion to Zhao Jing—so deep she had even dared attempt the Emperor’s assassination. How could she suddenly punish him for a mere servant? Was it because he had pushed her into the water, and she lashed out in anger?
Consort Jin soothed him gently, though inwardly she was disgusted. The Empress Dowager’s nephew was a fool—arrogant, reckless, and now even shoving Consort Jiang into the pond. If Consort Jiang stopped obeying them, how could she ever topple her and win the Emperor’s favor?
Still, Zhao Jing was useful. She endured an hour of coaxing, showered him with gifts, and finally sent him away appeased. Once he left, her maid Ying Que poured hot tea and massaged her legs, asking curiously: “Your Ladyship, won’t you report this to the Empress Dowager? She dotes on the young prince. Surely she would punish Consort Jiang harshly.”
Consort Jin swirled her teacup, her face darkening: “If I speak, won’t I be the villain? How then could I vie for the Emperor’s affection?”
The Empress Dowager, outwardly merciful but inwardly cruel, would certainly be enraged to hear that Zhao Jing was wronged. But she would never dirty her own hands—she would push the task onto Consort Jin. And if word reached the Emperor’s ears, how could she hope to remain in favor?
Ying Que, however, felt her mistress was worrying too much: “Since Consort Jiang’s attempt to assassinate His Majesty, half a year has passed. In all this time, His Majesty has never once visited her. Even when the Imperial Kitchen reduced her rations, His Majesty said nothing. When she fell into the water yesterday, he didn’t so much as glance her way. In this servant’s eyes, His Majesty has no feelings left for Consort Jiang. Why should Your Ladyship fear his reproach?”
Her words were not without reason. Ever since the assassination attempt, Fu Garden had been tightly guarded, yet His Majesty never set foot inside, forbidding even mention of those within. And yesterday, when Consort Jiang fell into the pond, there was not the slightest stir from His Majesty’s side. It truly seemed he had given up on her.
Consort Jin’s lips curved in satisfaction. She laughed softly: “Rest assured. With Zhao Jing’s temper, even if we do nothing, Consort Jiang will not have an easy time.”
She had already instructed Zhao Jing carefully before he left. All she needed now was to sit back and watch the drama unfold—no need to dirty her own hands.
After Xiao Tao was treated and helped back to her room by Lian Zhi, Jiang Nian sat dazed on the couch. She longed to mend her relationship with His Majesty, but it had been half a year since he last set foot in Fu Garden.
Waiting passively for doom was not an option. In the story she remembered, the heroine had already entered the palace as a candidate. Though she had not yet met His Majesty, who could say when fate might bring them together? If His Majesty noticed her early, what then?
The more Jiang Nian thought, the more urgent it seemed. She paced back and forth in her chamber.
“Your Ladyship, would you like some pastries?” Lian Zhi entered with freshly made osmanthus cakes. Jiang Nian’s eyes lit up at the sight. Lifting her skirts, she rushed over.
“Lian Zhi, teach me—quickly! How do you make these osmanthus cakes?”
She wanted to prepare them herself, so she would have an excuse to see His Majesty.
But hadn’t the cakes already been made? Why learn now? Lian Zhi stood puzzled, but Jiang Nian impatiently dragged her along.
Though the cakes looked delicate, making them was no easy task. Jiang Nian spent hours and managed only four rough pieces, far less refined than Lian Zhi’s. She sighed in frustration.
Lian Zhi, seeing her mistress disheartened, comforted her: “Your Ladyship has never done such things before. To make them at all is already impressive. His Majesty will surely be pleased.”
Jiang Nian brightened a little. As dusk fell, she carefully packed the cakes into a food box and set out.
Fu Garden’s gates were heavily guarded, with hidden imperial guards stationed all around. Normally, no one entered or left freely except palace staff and Zhao Jing. Even the Empress Dowager had to report to His Majesty before entering—lest Consort Jiang find a chance to escape.
As the gates opened, Jiang Nian was stopped by Xu Zhengchun. She explained quickly: “I only wish to deliver some pastries to His Majesty. I won’t run off.”
Hearing this from Consort Jiang, Xu Zhengchun frowned, arms crossed, weighing her words.
“I truly won’t run. Look—these osmanthus cakes, I made them myself. They’re for His Majesty. If you don’t trust me, follow behind. I’m just a weak woman; how could I possibly escape under your watch?”
Watching his expression ease, Jiang Nian felt a flicker of relief. Perhaps he would let her pass.
But then came the sneer: “Ha! Your Ladyship’s tricks grow ever clumsier. Before, at least you knew to hide poison in food. Now you don’t even bother pretending—straightaway you make the very pastry His Majesty is allergic to. What are you plotting?”
The palace gates slammed shut. Jiang Nian stood frozen inside, staring at the food box. She remembered—during her first month confined in Fu Garden, she had told Xu Zhengchun she wished to send food to Qi Yi. Believing she had repented, Qi Yi permitted it. But she had laced the food with poison. His wounds from the assassination had barely healed, and now he was poisoned again. If not for the physicians’ skill, he might have died by her hand.
From that day, Qi Yi gave up on her completely, never again allowing her to leave Fu Garden under any pretext. In her eagerness, she had thought osmanthus cakes were small and easy to make—forgetting entirely that Qi Yi was allergic to osmanthus.