[Subtle Push Forward]
“Your Highness!” Bi Zhu whispered a sharp reminder.
Upon hearing that Ying Fusheng had arrived, Consort Ning’s expression flickered into a trance-like state for a moment. However, she remembered her public image within the palace and was forced to relent. “Let him in.”
The attendants quickly summoned him. From a distance, Consort Ning watched Ying Fusheng approach. He had been visiting several times a day, but looking at him closely now, she realized his complexion was far better than it had ever been.
The little bastard who previously couldn’t even leave his bed was now able to travel outside the palace.
“Mother, your son has come to pay his respects,” Ying Fusheng said, bowing.
Consort Ning heard his greeting but remained silent.
Ying Fusheng looked up at her slightly. From the corner of his eye, he spotted water stains blooming on the floor; even though they had been cleaned up quickly, faint traces remained.
Seeing Consort Ning’s current state, he surmised that the morning’s imperial court session must have delivered some “excellent” news to her.
After paying his respects, he tried to move a few steps closer, but Bi Zhu intercepted him. “Your Highness,” Bi Zhu said, “Her Highness is indisposed. She said she does not wish to pass her illness onto you, so please do not come closer. The Imperial Physician says she requires quiet rest.”
On the couch, Consort Ning was wrapped in robes. Her face looked sunken, and there was a dark, bruised tint beneath her eyes—she truly looked as though she were suffering from a severe ailment.
“Then please rest well, Mother. I shall return tomorrow.” Ying Fusheng looked at Consort Ning’s feigned illness from a distance and sneered inwardly. His goal for this trip had been achieved. He signaled Song An to bring forward the items he had brought from outside the palace and then said, “Mother, take care of your health. Your son takes his leave.”
Consort Ning watched Ying Fusheng’s retreating figure, her eyes fixed on his profile.
Even after he left, her “sickly air” did not dissipate. Her face was dark and gloomy as she stared at the gifts he had left for a long time. ‘By what right… My own son is still grounded, yet this one could enter and leave the palace so freely.’ She stared for so long that she nearly reached out to flip the tables and smash everything, but Bi Zhu rushed to stop her. Looking up, Bi Zhu saw an expression on Consort Ning’s face that was utterly terrifying. “Your Highness!”
In the hall, the incense burner swirled with “soothing incense.” Consort Ning’s features were haggard, looking eerie through the veil of smoke.
Since returning from Huguo Temple, her mistress’s mind had seemed slightly off. She would often stare blankly at a spot, muttering about wanting to destroy something.
That haunted, erratic behavior made Bi Zhu’s heart skip with fear. Lately, the Consort’s sleep had been terrible; she frequently woke up screaming in the middle of the night and smashed countless objects. The Imperial Physician they consulted merely told her to rest. Fortunately, she still acted normally in front of outsiders, but just now—even before the attendants from Cining Palace who accompanied the Sixth Prince had fully departed—the Consort had almost lost her composure.
“That face of his… it’s looking more and more like her,” Consort Ning hissed.
Bi Zhu’s heart tightened. “Your Highness, that is but an illusion… With so many people in the palace, no one has noticed any resemblance between the Sixth Prince and the Empress.”
“It’s more and more alike… No, why is it looking more and more like her?” Consort Ning murmured, her tone and expression both deeply unsettling.
Bi Zhu hurriedly whispered her persuasion: “Calm yourself, Your Highness. The Crown Prince is merely grounded; why do you torment yourself so?”
Consort Ning did not answer. The gloom in her eyes did not fade; instead, it grew heavier. She slowly closed her eyes. “The rumors I told you to spread… have they circulated?”
Seeing her return to a semblance of normalcy, Bi Zhu breathed a sigh of relief. “This servant has handled it. Some servants who have received favors from Your Highness in the past didn’t even require me to smooth the way…”
“Very good.” Consort Ning’s expression was unreadable. She thought of how the Emperor had specifically summoned Ying Fusheng to the Qianqing Palace a few days ago. While the Crown Prince was grounded, this bastard had repeatedly received the Emperor’s appreciation. In a daze, the overlapping silhouette from that night at Huguo Temple flashed in her mind—a face resembling Empress Xu seemed to stand right before her. Seeing that face appear again and again, her eyes turned feral.
“Once this is done, send a message to my father for me. Tell him to go before His Majesty and…”
…
Another half-month passed. The Sixth Prince went to Weiyang Palace several times, only to be turned away each time because Consort Ning was “indisposed.” Gradually, rumors began to spread through the palace: they said Consort Ning was so sick with longing for her son that her spirit was failing. Even the Imperial Physicians who took her pulse went several times, confirming that Her Highness was “ailing from maternal pining.”
The Sixth Prince was, after all, a prince. While it was a good thing that the Empress Dowager protected her young grandson by keeping him nearby to recover, as time dragged on, he couldn’t stay in Cining Palace forever while his biological mother wasted away.
There were many other princes and princesses in the palace. The Ning family was currently enjoying imperial favor, and the Sixth Prince was beloved by the Empress Dowager. Previously, the other consorts had suppressed their schemes, even feeling a bit of secret joy when Consort Ning was grounded. But then news came from the court that the Emperor highly valued Vice Minister Ning.
The women of the harem were sharp; they could all see this was a “slap and a piece of candy” tactic. If the rumors of Consort Ning’s “maternal longing” continued, the Sixth Prince would eventually have to return to her to fulfill his filial duties. If he stayed under the Empress Dowager’s wing forever, what would happen to the status of the other royal children?
The whispers traveled quickly, soon reaching the Emperor’s ears.
Master Ning of the Ministry of Rites had performed exceptionally well lately. Following the success of the Soldiers’ Shrine, he had handled two more assignments in quick succession and was deeply trusted by the Emperor. Consequently, Master Ning had mentioned the issue of the Sixth Prince several times, pleading for mercy on behalf of Consort Ning. He argued that the Sixth Prince was young and still needed a mother’s care.
The Emperor heard this, but did not immediately respond.
The Emperor rarely interfered in harem affairs, merely sending someone to Cining Palace to mention it to the Empress Dowager.
For the past few days, Ying Fusheng had been playing his part with Consort Ning—a sick mother and a filial son; it was a performance everyone loved to see.
When he went to pay his respects to the Empress Dowager, he found several consorts gathered there, chatting.
“Xiao Qing hasn’t been seen for a few days, and he’s grown quite sturdy,” the consorts praised the Empress Dowager’s favorite pet.
The Empress Dowager replied, “He’s grown a bit fat, too.”
“Being fat is a sign of good fortune,” the consorts said, casting occasional glances at Ying Fusheng as he paid his respects. One consort had brought a princess along, who was currently sitting by the Empress Dowager’s side. After she finished speaking, her tone shifted slightly, pointedly saying: “I heard the Sixth Prince has been traveling outside the palace lately. Master Ning did a great job with the Soldiers’ Shrine; everyone in the capital is praising His Majesty and the Empress Dowager.”
“Master Ning did indeed handle that matter well,” the Empress Dowager noted.
Ying Fusheng could hear that although her tone was one of praise, there was a faint trace of displeasure hidden within.
The consort didn’t catch the mood and continued: “Yes, they say all the affairs of the Ministry of Rites are now handled by Master Ning. This is good; His Majesty and the Empress Dowager can both set their minds at ease. Don’t you agree, Sixth Highness?”
“Your Highness is truly well-informed,” Ying Fusheng said with a shy smile. “I have been out for a few days, but I haven’t heard much about my maternal grandfather.”
The consort’s expression shifted slightly as she tried to explain, “Oh, it’s nothing of the sort, it’s just that on the streets, everyone is—”
“Enough.” The Empress Dowager’s voice sank. “I am tired.”
The consort felt a lingering sense of indignation, but since the Empress Dowager had spoken, she had no choice but to leave.
Ying Fusheng noticed that the young princess seemed reluctant to leave the Empress Dowager and was stealing glances at him from the corner of her eye, so he picked up a pastry and gave it to her. The princess whispered “Thank you, Imperial Brother” and quickly followed the consort out.
The Empress Dowager noticed Ying Fusheng’s gesture. She could see perfectly well what these people were hinting at; they had even brought the princess along, all plotting for their own interests—no doubt related to the recent palace rumors. Seeing Ying Fusheng by her side, she thought for a moment before finally speaking: “Do you wish to return to your mother’s side?”
Ying Fusheng’s gaze flickered slightly. “Grandmother, your grandson should fulfill his filial duties by her bedside.”
The Empress Dowager frowned slightly at these words. If Consort Ning truly loved this child, she would have exempted him from the daily morning greetings. Each trip to Weiyang Palace required Ying Fusheng’s body to endure the cold winds, which was a burden; Consort Ning’s tacit acceptance of this was merely a performance for her benefit. Her gaze darkened, and looking at Ying Fusheng, she sighed softly: “You are a filial child.”
Ying Fusheng paused. Though he performed the role on the surface, the word “filial” had nothing to do with him. In two lifetimes, the filial duties he had performed never seemed to end well.
“We shall discuss this later. Go back and rest.” The Empress Dowager waved her hand to dismiss him. As Ying Fusheng rose, he saw the Empress Dowager slightly cover her mouth with a handkerchief. His movement to turn and leave stopped, and he turned back slightly. “Grandmother, the weather is cold. I will have Song An brew some snow pear soup and bring it to you in a while.”
Only after Ying Fusheng left did the Empress Dowager allow a small cough to escape.
Auntie Yu said worriedly, “I shall go summon the Imperial Physician.”
The Empress Dowager shook her head helplessly. “It’s an old ailment. I find I have a craving for that snow pear soup now.”
As soon as Ying Fusheng returned to his sleeping quarters, he entrusted the task to Song An.
Song An hadn’t even noticed the Empress Dowager was unwell—no medicine had been brewed in the small pharmacy recently—so he hurriedly left to make arrangements. After finishing his instructions, he saw the Prince lost in thought, his peripheral vision seemingly drifting toward the window in the direction of the Empress Dowager’s quarters. He spoke at the appropriate time: “Will Your Highness be delivering the snow pear soup personally in a while?”
Ying Fusheng paused, snapping back to look at Song An. “You go instead.”
Seeing the Prince had no intention of discussing the matter, Song An pivoted to another important affair: “There has been news from Weiyang Palace over the past few days.”
Ying Fusheng walked to the desk, where a set of Go pieces sent by the Empress Dowager was laid out. Since he started studying at Wenhua Hall, she had sent him many such things.
Black and white stones were scattered across the board. Ying Fusheng looked down, fingering them as he listened to Song An’s report. “Then it is almost time. The Crown Prince is grounded; the First Prince is riding the wind. When the flames of one’s arrogance burn too bright, one becomes a target.”
Song An looked at Ying Fusheng with slight confusion. He saw him gently set down a stone and say softly, “Next, we must watch Hu Buyu.”
Ever since the Prince helped the Hu family, Master Hu had become the Vice Minister of War, yet the Prince had never had any contact with him, nor had he sent any messages like he did with Master Shen Changcun. It was as if he had no relationship with Master Hu at all.
Song An asked, “Should we send a message to Master Hu?”
“If every move must be dictated via a message, then the game is dead.” Ying Fusheng gave a casual flick, sending a black stone wobbling to another position. “A clever man moves on his own.”
Within a few days, the Emperor frequently summoned officials to the palace for discussions. Many hidden dangers had surfaced following the military pay scandal. After the Emperor appointed Hu Buyu as the Vice Minister of War, he practically gave tacit approval to his actions. Consequently, Hu Buyu began a drastic cleanup of lingering issues, unearthing several cold cases that had long been buried. One of these cases involved assistance from the First Prince. When Hu Buyu reported this during the morning court session, the Emperor was greatly pleased and praised the First Prince in front of all the officials.
Since entering the court, Hu Buyu had stayed close to the First Prince, but they rarely interacted on official business. This report in court and the Emperor’s praise left many officials deep in thought.
As soon as court adjourned, Vice Minister Ning was called out to.
“Master Ning has been favored by the Emperor recently. Several major assignments were handled beautifully, and His Majesty has praised you personally several times.”
Master Ning had always enjoyed being flattered; hearing the appreciation of his colleagues was especially gratifying. “Not at all, not at all! It was all thanks to the assistance of my colleagues.”
“I heard that a few days ago, Master Ning was a guest at Senior Minister Xu’s manor?” a colleague probed. “Senior Minister Xu has rarely hosted colleagues from the court in recent years. You are the only one, Master Ning.”
Hearing this, Master Ning felt a sense of exhilaration. He had been repeatedly sending visiting cards to Senior Minister Xu, wanting to show goodwill first, and had been prepared to be rejected. To his surprise, when he sent a card two days ago, he was successfully granted an audience. Although they only shared a few cups of tea, it closed the gap between them significantly.
“Perhaps Master Ning’s opportunity has come,” the colleague said.
Master Ning asked, “How so?”
“You may not know, Master Ning, but the Emperor has been particularly displeased with the Minister of Rites regarding several recent tasks. Lately, His Majesty has been handing all the work to you. Is that not a sign of his high regard?” The colleague spoke with a pointed tone, “Some are saying the Emperor intends to promote you!”
Master Ning laughed it off, not explicitly confirming his colleague’s insinuation, but he took the words to heart.
He didn’t need a colleague to spell it out; he knew it clearly. In the past, such tasks would never have fallen to him. After the Soldiers’ Shrine incident, his situation had undergone a world-shaking change. The most important factor was the Emperor. With the Emperor using him heavily, his status naturally became different. In the court, the First Prince’s faction and the Crown Prince’s faction were fighting fiercely. His superior, the Minister of Rites, was in close contact with Prince Yongjia—and everyone knew the close ties between the First Prince’s maternal clan, the Yun family, and Prince Yongjia!
Senior Minister Xu softening his attitude at this time was actually a subtle hint that he intended to recruit him. He suppressed his excitement, but as it turned out, during the next morning’s court session, the Minister of Rites was hit with an impeachment.
At that moment, Master Ning felt that once a person’s luck arrives, everything changes. The Minister of Rites was accused of corruption and perverting the law, and the accuser was one of his own trusted aides. This was enough to create a massive vortex in the seemingly balanced court.
However, while his official duties were heavy, Consort Ning was sending message after message.
“Tell her to keep quiet about palace matters!” Master Ning was busy with court affairs. “I will naturally explain things to His Majesty.”
The messenger reported, “Bi Zhu said Her Highness’s spirit has been very poor lately…”
Master Ning was busy pursuing a promotion and had no time to worry about Consort Ning. He realized his tone was a bit harsh and recalled that his daughter had never been one to suffer grievances quietly. She had managed things cautiously in the palace for years, but her personality was essentially extreme—otherwise, she wouldn’t have… carried out the scheme to swap the children back then. “If her spirit is poor, have her summon the Imperial Physician. Tell her to mind herself and not stir up trouble during this time. She has endured for so many years; she can suffer a few more days of grievance.”
When the messenger returned to the palace and Consort Ning heard the reply, she knocked over even more things.
Bi Zhu hurriedly had the palace physicians prescribe several doses of regulating medicine and offered Consort Ning some refreshing tea to soothe her emotions, coaxing her to take an afternoon rest. Consort Ning remained quiet for half the day, but suddenly jolted awake from her sleep, staring at Bi Zhu with disheveled hair.
Startled by her state, Bi Zhu hurriedly called out to her twice, “Your Highness, did you have another nightmare?”
As if snapping out of a bad dream, Consort Ning’s gaze turned hollow, her expression gradually twisting into something poisonous. “Where is that bastard?”
“Your Highness, the Sixth Prince is at the Cining Palace!” Bi Zhu replied.
Consort Ning regained her senses, freed from the nightmare but realizing she was still grounded. The terrors of Huguo Temple followed her like a shadow; day and night, she dreamed of people discovering that the bastard’s face was becoming increasingly similar to Empress Xu’s. “Since the Sixth Prince hasn’t fully recovered, send some more tonic medicine over to him.”
Bi Zhu froze, understanding exactly what she meant. “Your Highness!”
“In small doses, the palace physicians won’t be able to identify it at all, and it can make him suffer a bit—what’s the harm?” Consort Ning muttered to herself, her tone growing increasingly fierce. “It would be even better if there were a medicine that could disfigure him. That face truly cannot be allowed to remain.”
Bi Zhu wanted to persuade her further, but Consort Ning’s eyes were like those of a vengeful ghost. “Go, now!”
…
In the flickering shadows behind thick, obscuring curtains, the heavy scent of medicine lingered. It seemed as though someone was drawing closer. Consort Ning walked in, followed by several palace attendants. Ying Fusheng looked up as an attendant approached him with a bowl of medicine. In the liquid floated traces of dregs, and inch by inch, the scene seemed to transform into another reality.
Faced with Consort Ning’s feigned warmth and concern, Ying Fusheng watched the medicine draw closer until his own hand reached out to take the bowl. The acrid liquid flowed down his throat, and as if unaware, he swallowed it mouthful by mouthful into his stomach…
Inside the Cining Palace, Ying Fusheng bolted upright from a convulsion, leaning over the side of the bed and dry-heaving uncontrollably, as if trying to claw something out of his throat. A moment later, he instinctively reached for the needle case in the hidden compartment of the bedframe. Finding only empty space, he came to his senses and looked down at his young hands.
Ying Fusheng took a long time to steady his spirit. He looked blankly at Song An, who was resting on a small cot nearby, before it suddenly clicked.
A nightmare. He was living his life over, yet he was still susceptible to these ghosts. In his sleep, he was that fool again, trusting Consort Ning and drinking the poison that would disembowel him as if it were a cure.
Ying Fusheng lowered his sleeve, his gaze drifting toward the “soothing incense” in the distance. He murmured to himself, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Some people are about to go mad anyway.”