Xiao Qinqxue let out a soft sigh. It had been her choice to come to Yong, to enter Prince Jin’s residence and cure Pei Ziyan of his poison. She had wanted to make up for certain regrets from the past—but Heaven rarely grants what the heart desires.
Enough. Brooding serves no purpose.
After bathing, Xiao Qingxue changed into loose, comfortable clothing. Beneath, she wore something light, with a robe draped over her shoulders. She leaned against the window, book in hand. Medicine had always been her passion, and since arriving in Yong, it had proven unexpectedly useful.
That first year she devoted herself entirely to detoxifying and healing Pei Ziyan. Once his health gradually improved, noble ladies began seeking her help with ailments they dared not speak of—delicate gynecological troubles. Among them were the wives of high-ranking officials and even the reigning Princess Royal.
It seemed like nothing more than ordinary assistance—a small favor, the simple act of preparing a few medicinal herbs. Yet, without realizing it, Xiao Qingxue had helped Pei Ziyan forge many valuable connections.
Most of the time, she disliked going out. Aside from consultations, she spent most of her days immersed in medical texts.
By last year, Pei Ziyan’s health was nearly restored, and he no longer needed decoctions as frequently as before. This allowed Xiao Qingxue to devote herself to refining her pharmacy, preparing remedies especially for noblewomen suffering from discreet gynecological ailments.
Dealings with the powerful inevitably involved favors. Xiao Qingxue was willing to treat their hidden illnesses, and in return they owed her debts of gratitude—debts that proved crucial in Pei Ziyan’s struggle for succession. Beyond that, she contributed greatly in wealth and in winning hearts. She had believed that sincerity could be met with sincerity. Yet in the end, nothing withstands the fickleness of human hearts.
“Greetings to the Princess Consort.” The stewardess of the household stepped across the threshold, curtsied, and spoke respectfully. “Princess De’an has sent someone to fetch medicine. She says the decoction you prescribed last time has already been finished.”
Xiao Qingxue’s brows drew together.
Mingyue interjected firmly: “My lady is in no mood today to prepare medicine. Go back and inform the Princess’s attendants.”
The stewardess lifted her gaze, startled. “Princess Consort?”
“Do as Mingyue says,” Xiao Qingxue replied coolly. “Tell them I am in the midst of a separation dispute with Prince Jin and cannot quiet my mind to prepare medicine. If the Princess can help me secure a divorce decree, I will gladly hand over the prescription, so she need never rely on others again.”
The stewardess was aghast. She stared at Xiao Qingxue in disbelief, certain she had misheard. “A divorce? But the Prince and Princess Consort are known for their deep affection—envied by all. How could this possibly…”
Xiao Qingxue lowered her head back to her book, unwilling to explain further. “Go.”
The stewardess lingered, uneasy and hesitant. “Princess Consort, once you married the Prince, your name was entered into the imperial genealogy. You are now a daughter-in-law of the royal clan. Divorce is unheard of. His Highness the Crown Prince would never agree, and His Majesty even less so—”
“Nanny Zhou.” Mingyue frowned in displeasure. “Since Her Ladyship has already spoken, you need only reply accordingly. The rest has nothing to do with you—don’t trouble yourself over it.”
The stewardess saw she wasn’t joking, and her expression grew uneasy and grave. Three years ago, she had personally witnessed the Princess Consort’s medical skill, pulling the Prince back step by step from death’s door. She knew how deep the Prince’s feelings for her ran, and she remembered clearly how, two years ago, the Prince knelt outside the palace for a full day and night to obtain the imperial marriage decree—thrusting the Princess Consort into the eye of the storm overnight. Among the noblewomen of the capital, some envied and some resented her. They scoffed that a mere physician had no right to be a principal consort. But the Prince bore the pressure and declared he would marry no one else.
For two years since their wedding, the couple had been devoted, never once quarreling. How was it that today, just after the Prince was named Crown Prince, the Princess Consort suddenly demanded a divorce?
For a royal consort to seek separation was rare in any dynasty. And besides… besides… How could a woman of humble medical origins possibly contend against the heir to the throne?
The stewardess steadied herself and tried again: “Your Ladyship…”
“My lady’s mind is set. She will not change it.” Mingyue cut her off coldly. Then, as if struck by a thought, her brows furrowed. “Forget it. I’ll deliver the words myself. You belong to the Prince’s household—who knows if you’d truly convey her meaning?” With that, she turned and strode out.
Nanny Zhou blanched, too frightened even to offer farewell, and hurried after her. “Miss Mingyue, calm yourself, please calm yourself!”
Mingyue was the Princess Consort’s chief maid. Because of the couple’s strong bond, her standing in the household was high—there was nowhere in the residence barred to her. And she was swift of foot. Nanny Zhou’s shouts and gasps couldn’t keep pace.
In moments, Mingyue reached the front courtyard. Seeing the waiting matron there, she quickened her steps and bowed. “Nanny Gu, I greet you.”
Nanny Gu knew her well. Seeing her emerge, she smiled warmly. “Miss Mingyue, the medicine Her Ladyship prescribed for Princess Royal has worked wonders. After fourteen days, the effect is clear—these days she even wishes to go out. Princess Royal sent me to—”
“Nanny Gu.” Mingyue interrupted, apologetic. “My lady can no longer prepare medicine for the Princess Royal.”
Nanny Gu froze. “What?”
“The bond between the Crown Prince and my lady has broken. She wishes to divorce, but His Highness refuses. My lady is in great distress.” Mingyue sighed. “If the Princess Royal could help secure a divorce decree, my lady promises to leave the prescription with the Princess Royal’s household. From then on, the medicine may be prepared directly, without reliance on others.”
Nanny Gu was stunned. “A divorce decree?”
“Mingyue! Mingyue!” Nanny Zhou finally caught up, breathless and frantic. “Please calm down. I don’t yet know what has happened, but divorce is no trifling matter. Don’t… don’t add fuel to the fire. Aren’t you Her Ladyship’s most trusted maid? Can’t you persuade her instead—”
“No.” Mingyue’s reply was blunt, just two hard syllables. Then she turned to Nanny Gu. “Please return and tell the Princess Royal exactly this: until a divorce decree is obtained, no one from her household is to come again. Without it, there will be no medicine.” Leaving those words behind, she spun on her heel and strode off—like a gust of wind, fierce and unrestrained.
Only Nanny Gu and Nanny Zhou remained, staring at each other in bewilderment, neither knowing how to react.
“Nanny Zhou…” Nanny Gu looked at her, suspicion flickering across her face. “What on earth is happening?”
“I don’t know either.” Nanny Zhou was flustered, her heart in turmoil. “Please, Nanny Gu, return first. Whether you tell the Princess Royal the truth is for you to decide. As for me…” Her expression grew urgent. “I… I must go see the Crown Prince.” With that, she hurried toward the main courtyard where Pei Ziyan resided.
Pei Ziyan stood before the study window, his figure cloaked in shadow. His brows were lowered, his eyes unreadable, yet the silence pressed down like a weight, filling the room with a suffocating stillness. The air itself seemed steeped in deathly quiet.
So quiet it unsettled the heart.
“Your Highness,” came the voice of his personal guard, “Nanny Zhou requests an audience.”
Pei Ziyan lifted his gaze toward the door, closed his eyes briefly, and steadied his emotions. “Let her in.”