Two years of love, two years of mutual support—does she truly have not a shred of trust in him?
“Your Highness.” Nanny Zhou stepped across the threshold, bowing her head in inquiry. “Should we still assign people to keep watch over the Princess Consort?”
Pei Ziyan was silent for a moment, his voice cold and sharp as water: “Watch her. Do not allow her to step beyond Shuangxue Courtyard.”
“Yes.” Nanny Zhou obeyed, but lingered, hesitating as her gaze rested on him.
“What is it?” Pei Ziyan frowned, turning his head, his eyes heavy upon her face. “Is there more?”
“Your Highness the Crown Prince…” Nanny Zhou spoke with caution. “Must you truly marry the Crown Princess?”
Pei Ziyan said nothing, his thin lips pressed tightly together.
Must he marry? He had just asked himself that very question. The answer was: yes, he must.
A shadow of pain flickered in his eyes. “I only love Qingxue. These three years, her devotion to me—I know it better than anyone. But if I do not marry Yun Xueyao, this position as Crown Prince will not hold. And once another takes the throne, neither Qingxue nor I will survive.”
Nanny Zhou’s earlier question had already been a grave overstep. She was but a servant, unqualified to meddle in her master’s affairs—least of all in something as weighty as the marriage of the Crown Prince. She should not have spoken. Yet hearing his words, she nodded. “Your Highness should speak with the Princess Consort. She… she is a fine woman. If you lose her, I fear you may never meet another so good in this lifetime.”
Pei Ziyan fell silent. Of course he knew—if he lost Xiao Qingxue, he would live the rest of his life in regret. That was why he would never let go. Never agree to divorce her. She must not even think of it.
His gaze drifted toward the window, dark and heavy.
Today was the day of his investiture as Crown Prince. From a crippled prince lying helpless in bed three years ago, he had risen to become heir to the throne of Yong. It was nothing short of a rebirth from ashes. He should have been happy.
The kitchens should have prepared a feast. He and Qingxue should have sat together, drinking wine, celebrating, speaking their hearts—if only the imperial decree had named her Crown Princess instead of Yun Xueyao. Then this day would have been theirs to rejoice.
Pei Ziyan gave a bitter smile. But there was no “if.”
He draped a robe over his shoulders and stepped out, walking along the covered corridor, his feet unconsciously carrying him toward Shuangxue Courtyard.
The night was ink-dark. Lanterns hung along the corridor, casting light into the blackness of the courtyards.
Outside Shuangxue Courtyard, many guards now stood watch.
Pei Ziyan looked from afar at their upright figures, and somehow his mind drifted back to the Prince’s manor three years ago—its lax guards, idle servants, treacherous lackeys selling off their master’s belongings, and within that shunned bedchamber, a crippled prince whom everyone avoided as though he were plague.
He lifted his head to gaze at the stars. Only a few scattered points of light shone in the night sky—lonely, just like his heart at that moment. He ought to speak properly with Xiao Qingxue.
Pei Ziyan moved forward, silent as the guards knelt in salute, and stepped into the courtyard. The place was desolate and cold; he sighed without a sound and walked toward the main hall. Just as he was about to push the door open, the lamps inside suddenly went out. Darkness fell abruptly before his eyes. His steps froze. He stood outside the door for a long time, his figure swallowed by shadow, his expression and the look in his eyes hidden from view. Lonely, he lingered there for a long while—then turned and left.
At dawn the next day, Pei Ziyan went early to court.
After breakfast, Xiao Qingxue sat alone in her room and finished writing the divorce letter. Nanny Zhou entered to report that the Empress had summoned the Princess Consort to the palace.
Xiao Qingxue folded the letter once the ink had dried, slipped it into an envelope, and tucked it into her sleeve.
“Will you go to the palace, my lady?”
Xiao Qingxue gave a soft hum. “After all, I’ve lived in Yong for three years, married to Pei Ziyan for two. Until the divorce is settled, I am still a consort of Yong… or rather, the Crown Prince’s secondary consort. I should show the Empress proper respect.”
Every role has its duties.
The Empress’s summons could only be about the Crown Prince’s marriage. Xiao Qingxue had no reason to refuse.
Better to use this chance to speak plainly, to sever ties face to face, so there would be no lingering entanglements.
Xiao Qingxue rose, changed her clothes, and with Mingyue at her side, took a carriage into the palace.
To be fair, over the past two years Xiao Qingxue had gotten along well with the Empress. After all, she had saved the Empress’s son. No matter how lofty the Empress’s station, gratitude was only natural. And as mistress of the inner palace, she was a woman of broad vision and generous heart. Yet even the most virtuous and benevolent Empress, when it came to her son becoming Crown Prince and choosing a Crown Princess, would spare no effort to stand firmly on his side.
Xiao Qingxue had not expected apologies. But she had never imagined that people could be so selfish, so cold.
Xiao Qingxue stepped into Fengyi Palace, only to find another woman seated beside the Empress—the very same Yun Xueyao whom the Emperor had just decreed as the Crown Princess. Her gaze faltered for a moment, but she walked forward steadily and bowed as a daughter-in-law should.
“No need for such formality. Sit,” the Empress said with a smile, her bearing that of the mistress of the inner palace. “You know of His Majesty’s decree yesterday. From now on, you and Xueyao must assist the Crown Prince together, be his virtuous helpmates. I believe you will get along well.”
“Your Majesty,” Yun Xueyao lowered her eyes, her tone tinged with sorrow, “I fear Sister Qingxue does not wish to share that role with me.”
“How could that be?” The Empress patted her hand gently, soothing her. “Qingxue has always known her place, refined and sensible. She would never resent you.” Turning, she looked at Xiao Qingxue. “Isn’t that so?”
Xiao Qingxue slowly shook her head. “Your Majesty, I have no intention of continuing as the Crown Prince’s helpmate. I wish to divorce His Highness.”
The Empress’s face darkened. “Qingxue, do not jest.”
Xiao Xueyao’s lips curled into a cold smile. “I said all along the Princess Consort could not stomach being demoted from wife to concubine. She brandished a divorce letter to threaten the Crown Prince, yet Your Majesty insisted she knew her place. Is this what you call knowing her place?”
“Miss Yun, do not judge others by yourself.” Xiao Qingxue’s smile was faint. “I have no need of such threats. Divorce means divorce. If His Highness agrees, I will take the letter and leave at once, never to appear before you or the Crown Prince again.”
Yun Xueyao’s face hardened. “You—”
“Qingxue, do not speak in anger,” the Empress frowned. “Though it is a grievance for you to be made secondary consort, you must understand—the Crown Prince is not like a mere prince. He will one day be Emperor. The Crown Princess must have strong lineage, so she can command the harem with authority.
“And remember, a secondary consort is not the same as a concubine. It is a formal title. With your background, it is not truly a humiliation. Now that Ziyan is Crown Prince, you must manage the inner court well, set an example for the women, and not behave like petty girls who quarrel out of jealousy.”