Consort Ji’s well-intentioned advice was destined to go to waste.
When she mentioned the Autumn Hunt that day, Yun Jiao let it go in one ear and out the other. However, Xue Ya and Gong Mei took it to heart, paying even more attention to their mistress’s skincare and hair care, striving to make her even more delicate and beautiful.
At first, Yun Jiao didn’t notice—after all, whenever it was skincare time, she would close her eyes so serenely that her maids almost wanted to check if she was still breathing. Later, every time she reached for a dish with chili oil, Xue Ya would advise, “Mistress, this lamb dish is sprinkled with pepper. Eating it may cause bread to grow on your face.”
Bread? What bread?
Yun Jiao looked up in confusion, taking a moment to realize what Xue Ya meant: “That character is pronounced ‘pào’.”
“Face pào” referred to acne, something the ancients were also quite particular about.
They believed that lying drunk outdoors could also trigger breakouts, likely because outdoor dust would settle on the face while intoxicated, and without washing, it would clog pores.
Yun Jiao obediently switched to another dish.
Lately, she had discovered that one of the imperial kitchen chefs excelled at Sichuan cuisine—fresh, fragrant, and spicy. On chilly days, a table full of numbing and spicy dishes could chase away the cold, and the taste was absolutely divine.
Just as she was about to pick up her chopsticks, Gong Mei brought over a teacup: “This mapo tofu has a lot of chili oil, Mistress. Please wait while I rinse it with water first.”
Huh?
Yun Jiao’s pupils trembled in shock.
Anyone who rinses mapo tofu with water should get out of Yan Chi!
“Wait, why have you two suddenly become so strict?”
“Mistress, we’re actually not that strict. The lady in the main hall has already started eating only one meal a day and avoiding all meat! She must have heard the news that the Emperor is preparing the list of attendants for the Autumn Hunt.”
Upon hearing this, Yun Jiao said, “But I don’t want to go.”
Being chosen for the Autumn Hunt entourage meant more opportunities to spend time with the Emperor.
Seeing her two maids looking at her in confusion and knowing they only had her best interests at heart, Yun Jiao sighed softly and once again began spouting nonsense: “It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with the Emperor, but as a lowly Changzai, striving for such an opportunity requires far more effort and sacrifice.”
“Remember these two phrases—they will be the guiding principles for our Western Hall of Xianfu Palace from now on.”
Seeing their mistress unusually serious, the two held their breath and listened intently.
Yun Jiao declared loudly:
“Hard work doesn’t necessarily lead to success, but not working hard guarantees comfort.”
“I’d rather do nothing than make a mistake!”
Xue Ya, Gong Mei, and the hidden guards: …
Noticing their expressions, Yun Jiao first called on Xue Ya: “After hearing this, what insights have you gained?”
“This servant doesn’t fully understand, but whatever the mistress says must be right.”
Xue Ya gazed at her with sparkling eyes.
When it was Gong Mei’s turn, she said, “When the mistress gives birth to a prince, please remind this servant beforehand so I can cover the young prince’s ears in time whenever the mistress says such things.”
…
Seeing Yun Jiao fuming, Xue Ya quickly opened the box of pastries to let her mistress have something sweet.
What Yun Jiao didn’t voice was that it wasn’t just laziness holding her back—she genuinely had no desire to attend the Autumn Hunt.
Travel in ancient times meant double the hardship. As a low-ranking Changzai, her accommodations would be modest at best, far from a comfortable journey. The mere thought of jostling in a carriage for days was enough to sap half her vitality. She’d much rather stay behind in the palace. While others saw her—honored with a title after her first night with the Emperor—as having boundless prospects and believed she should capitalize on that novelty to climb higher, she felt no such drive.
After all, climbing upward was a road with no end in sight.
Exhausting every resource, battling others, battling fate, battling oneself.
Once you set your mind on competing for favor, you’re not far from breast hyperplasia and ovarian cysts.
This wasn’t mere speculation on her part.
Ever since the news of the Emperor preparing for the Autumn Hunt truly spread, the daily morning greetings at Jianzhang Palace had been filled with such tension it felt ready to explode at any moment. The Empress seated at the head was surprisingly the most composed this time—according to Yan Chi’s traditions, unless under special circumstances, the Empress was expected to accompany the Emperor during the Autumn Hunt. Over the past half month, the Empress had coldly watched the consorts below squabble, proudly telling her matron no less than three times: “I am the Empress of the central palace, after all I’m different from them.”
Even Shufei became unusually talkative, though no one dared to respond.
She maintained a delicate cousin persona in the palace, waiting for some fool to disrespect her so she could legitimately faint from anger and win the Emperor’s pity. Everyone understood this, so naturally whatever Shufei said was met with “Yes, yes,” and “Of course, of course.”
With no stage for her act, Shufei’s visible frustration became increasingly genuine.
Just then, the Empress chose to provoke her: “Shufei has grown thinner lately. If you’re feeling unwell, perhaps you shouldn’t endure the hardships of travel and should rest properly in the palace instead.”
Shufei rose and performed a curtsy: “Your Majesty’s guidance is appreciated. This humble consort possesses a frail constitution and always coughs slightly when seasons change. Fortunately, His Majesty pities me and frequently bestows tonics for nourishment. When the imperial physician came to check my pulse yesterday, he already declared me perfectly healthy.”
I have tonics bestowed by my cousin the Emperor, do you?
The Emperor cares about my health, doesn’t that anger you?
The harem members secretly glanced up at the Empress’s expression and reached a conclusion—she was indeed furious.
“What is Shufei doing now?” the Empress’s face turned cold. “I merely showed some concern for you, how could it be considered ‘guidance’? You rising to apologize makes it seem as if I’m bullying you.”
“This consort meant no such thing, please understand clearly, Your Majesty.”
Shufei’s eyes welled with aggrieved tears, glistening brightly.
Since their days in the Eastern Palace, the Empress and Shufei had never gotten along, always at odds like needle against wheat awn.
This tactic might not work on others, but it never failed to enrage the Empress.
“If Shufei meant no such thing, then when you return to Yanxi Palace, don’t collapse crying, needing both the imperial physician and the Emperor…”
Before the Empress could finish, Shufei pressed her hand to her forehead and fainted.
“Your Highness! Your Highness!”
Two trained maids behind Shufei promptly caught her, preventing any injury.
Now the Empress’s face turned as dark as the blame she had to bear.
What should have been a half-hour morning greeting extended to an hour and a half due to Shufei’s perfectly timed fainting spell. This included the Empress’s barely contained command: “Have Shufei properly examined! I want to see what exactly is wrong with her!” and the touching scene of Shufei delivering her last words to the Emperor.
Yun Jiao felt like an extra in a palace intrigue drama, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.
It was truly spectacular, and truly terrifying.
So when the Autumn Hunt entourage list was announced, Yun Jiao chose to reload.
The second time, the list changed slightly—Feng Pin was missing.
The third time, Li Pin appeared on it.
The fourth time, even Consort Ji was included.
And every single time, Yun Jiao remained on the main list, clinging like stubborn plaster that couldn’t be peeled off.
She couldn’t understand—why did the Emperor insist on bringing her!?
…
Xie Zhihang was equally perplexed.
He had initially thought that Yun Jiao didn’t want to travel with Consort Feng, who had previously given her a hard time, or perhaps she wanted the security of having her superior consort accompany her. Alternatively, maybe she desired Consort Ji’s company? All of these assumptions turned out to be wrong—she wanted none of them.
What did Yun Jiao truly want?
This question lingered in the Emperor’s mind, unresolved for a long time.
…
On the fifth reload, Consort Wei, accompanied by her close friend Xu Guiren, paid a visit. They began with polite small talk, their attitude seemingly amiable. Once the pleasantries were over, they got straight to the point, essentially asking how Consort Xi, who had only attended the Emperor once, had managed to earn a title and later dine with the Emperor. How had she won the Emperor’s favor? What did the Emperor like these days?
Their directness took Yun Jiao by surprise, and she guessed they must be truly anxious.
In reality, it wasn’t entirely that. Consort Wei believed Consort Xi wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and feared she wouldn’t grasp subtler hints.
“I don’t know,” Yun Jiao replied with utmost sincerity. “Maybe because I’m beautiful?”
“There isn’t an unattractive sister in the entire harem.”
“Then it must be because I’m exceptionally beautiful.”
With her 800-point appearance stat, her meticulously crafted starting attributes weren’t for nothing.
Consort Wei stared intently at Yun Jiao’s face and actually found herself believing it a little. Xu Guiren, who was more attractive than Consort Wei and had been renowned as a beauty among the daughters of officials before entering the palace, bristled at this remark:
“If Consort Xi doesn’t wish to share, just say so. There’s no need to mock us. Everyone who enters the palace has enjoyed some favor at some point. There may come a day when you need my help.”
Consort Wei listened, her thoughts churning.
Indeed, as a consort of her rank, she had extended an olive branch by visiting a mere changzai, yet the other party showed such disrespect, not even bothering to engage in polite evasion. Her expression instantly cooled. “Consort Li has been too lenient with you. If you were in my palace, you’d be relearning the rules. There have been changzai and daying who gained favor in the past, but the minimum rank for accompanying the Emperor to the Autumn Hunt is guiren. By the time the Autumn Hunt is over, the Emperor may have forgotten you entirely.”
Consort Wei set down her teacup, her silver-nail-adorned fingers slightly raised.
Yun Jiao inwardly cried injustice.
In Deep Palace, when faced with offers of friendship or alliance from other consorts, one could choose to accept gladly, decline politely, or refuse outright—only the last option would lower their favorability… But Yun Jiao lacked social experience and thought she had been quite tactful. In Consort Wei’s eyes, however, her response was neither thorough nor respectful enough.
Just then, a commotion arose outside.
A eunuch’s clear voice announced:
“His Majesty the Emperor has arrived!”