Yin Cheng spent the entire morning simply watching his secondary consort.
She’d lost her temper just yesterday, and today she’d woken up late as well, though she still kept to the same schedule she’d had at the pox-avoidance quarters, after checking on the two baskets of green sprouts, she sat down at the writing desk. She held her brush quietly, barely looking up at all.
Had she forgotten about yesterday, or simply didn’t want to bring it up?
He had no intention of pressing the matter, but anyone with eyes could see the matter wasn’t really settled, bottling it up like this wasn’t good.
Or perhaps she just hadn’t figured out how to bring it up yet?
Yin Cheng sat alone with a book in hand, the same page open the whole time, untouched.
At the writing desk, Zhao Xiaojin sat perfectly upright, going over in her mind everything she knew, had seen, and could remember.
There was no electricity here, candles were the only source of light. To eliminate the fire hazard, she’d need to tackle it from several angles. She summoned the same drive she’d once used to organize her own bedroom, and began working through the problem step by step.
First, she needed to isolate the source of the flame, the candle itself.
Zhao Xiaojin thought of a solution: fitting an open-topped glass cover over the candle, or simply setting the candle inside a glass cup, either would achieve the same effect.
Which raised a problem, though, did they even have glass here? She couldn’t recall ever seeing any.
Would she have to make glass from scratch, then? It wasn’t terribly difficult, actually, you just needed extremely high heat to melt sand into liquid, then blow it into shape.
Actually, better than a candle altogether would be an oil lamp. If she really could produce glass, making a lamp chimney would make more sense than just a glass cup.
Zhao Xiaojin herself had never actually used an oil lamp, but she’d seen pictures of one. Nowadays plenty of people were into retro aesthetics, vintage decor, vintage collectibles, there was a whole community of enthusiasts for that sort of thing.
The oil lamp she remembered had been made by a craft blogger, recreated based on old photographs.
A base and handle in verdigris-patinated bronze, with a bulging clear glass chimney in the middle, and a hidden manual switch to control the flame’s size.
Compared to a candle, an oil lamp was far less bothered by wind, and could be carried around easily. Enclosed in glass, as long as it wasn’t broken, it stayed safe.
So it seemed glass really was indispensable.
She’d have to ask the little monk where such a thing could be found. If it didn’t exist yet, where might there be a place to make glass? And failing that, could the little monk even help with something like this at all?
Thinking of him, Zhao Xiaojin looked up and saw him sitting across from her. He was looking down at a book, his smooth bald head turned toward her.
She’d pushed him quite hard last night, she wondered if he’d gotten hurt. She’d been acting so strangely at the time, saying whatever came to mind, not even hesitating to shove him.
And Wang Xiaohai had gotten caught up in it too.
The little monk hadn’t gotten angry at the time, only pulling her along to get some rest. This morning he’d even woken her gently, his expression the same as always, showing no sign of displeasure.
But still, she had pushed him. When you did something wrong, even if you hadn’t apologized in the moment, once you realized it, you ought to make up for it as soon as possible.
Zhao Xiaojin set down her brush, separated the sheets of paper she’d just finished writing so the ink would dry faster, stood up, took a deep breath, and walked over to the other side.
Yin Cheng had been keeping an eye on his secondary consort the whole time, just before she looked up, he’d pretended to be absorbed in his reading and lowered his head. Now that she was coming over, he acted as though he’d only just noticed, and naturally looked up.
Zhao Xiaojin wasn’t walking quickly. It had been a long time since she’d last done something wrong, and shoving someone like that, such a serious mistake, she’d never done before at all. So how was she supposed to word her apology?
Over the mere few steps of distance, Yin Cheng watched his secondary consort struggling to close the gap, and couldn’t help feeling a bit impatient. He simply stood up himself, closed the book, and stepped forward, instantly closing the distance until the two of them stood face to face.
With the person who’d been three steps away suddenly right in front of her, Zhao Xiaojin instinctively took a step back, and only once she was sure she wouldn’t bump into him did she look up at him.
The little monk was watching her, his bright eyes reflecting an expression on her own face that was clearly startled.
Zhao Xiaojin composed her startled expression and was just about to say “I’m sorry,” when he beat her to it.
“Finished writing? Want to go for a walk outside?” Yin Cheng spoke first, since his secondary consort clearly wasn’t ready yet, there was no rush, there was plenty of time ahead of them.
“We can go outside?” Hadn’t he said not to go out unless there was some particular reason? The “I’m sorry” that had been right on the tip of her tongue never made it out, even though Zhao Xiaojin still had the apology on her mind, this offer to go outside was simply too tempting to pass up.
“Just a casual walk, to help you learn your way around, that much should be fine.” Only because most people were currently at Changchun Garden, making the odds of running into any of the palace consorts quite low, otherwise, he wouldn’t have suggested it at all. As for the wives of the married princes, they went out even less often.
Running into the Primary Consort earlier had been something of a fluke.
After a quick tidy-up, the two of them headed out, with Wang Xiaohai following a short distance behind. He truly didn’t expect the young master to suggest going out for a walk on his own initiative. All these years, unless required to make an appearance for some festival, the young master had rarely shown himself in public at all.
Having only just brought his secondary consort back to the palace, and now taking her out like this, there was no telling what kind of talk this might stir up this time.
They took the same route through Qianying Gate again, though this time they didn’t run into anyone. As they went, Yin Cheng, following the layout of the Eastern Five Houses, explained to his secondary consort who currently lived where.
“The Fourth House is where the Ninth Prince, Yin Tang, lives, two years older than me, and we share the same mother. He’s good-looking, but he doesn’t like people telling him so.” Passing by the neighboring Fourth House, he made a particular point of emphasizing that last part.
Right, an older brother sharing the same mother as the little monk, ninth in line, though exactly how good-looking he was, she couldn’t say. Zhao Xiaojin quietly filed that away.
“The Third House is where the Seventh Prince, Yin You, lives, five years older than me. His leg isn’t quite right, so if you happen to see him later, don’t stare at his leg.” The Seventh Prince was fine in every other respect, but his congenital leg condition had left him largely overlooked by everyone.
Got it, don’t stare at people whose legs have problems.
“The Second House is where the Fourth Prince, Yin Zhen, lives, seven years older than me. His consort is currently pregnant, due to give birth around next March.” As for anything worth noting about the Fourth Prince himself, nothing came to mind at the moment.
Yin Cheng simply skipped over that part.
What kind of person the Fourth Prince actually was, that remained unclear for now.
“The westernmost First House is where the Primary Consort we ran into earlier lives. The Eldest Prince is thirteen years older than me, and has spent years abroad helping Father lead troops into battle, a truly impressive man.” Except his primary consort had given birth to five daughters in a row, and he was determined to have a son, to the point where even the Primary Consort had grown rather obsessed with the idea herself.
Leading troops into battle, that had to be someone quite impressive.
Past Qianying Gate lay the palace path between Zhongcui Palace and Jingyang Palace.
“This side is Jingyang Palace. It was renovated ten years ago and no one has lived there since, it just holds the palace’s book collection now.”
Jingyang Palace, such a familiar name. Zhao Xiaojin was certain she’d heard it somewhere before, though she couldn’t quite place it.
“And over here is Zhongcui Palace, whose mistress is Consort Rong. She prefers quiet and rarely leaves the palace grounds.” Except for major matters of the inner court.
Strange, the name Zhongcui Palace felt familiar to her too, somehow.
Two palace names in a row like this, that couldn’t be a coincidence. Had she seen them in some video she’d scrolled past before? Yes, she must have seen it more than once. Otherwise, how would she remember them so clearly?
“What’s wrong, are you tired?” Yin Cheng noticed his secondary consort’s head drooping, her pace slowing more and more, and stopped without meaning to.
It was strange, too, after walking such a distance, he himself felt no fatigue at all. Did that mean his body really was gradually getting stronger?
“No, it’s just, I feel like I’ve heard these two names before.” Zhao Xiaojin said it without much certainty.
“These palace names have existed for ages, it’s not so strange to have heard them before. Do you remember who told you about them?” Yin Cheng asked idly as the two of them approached the gate of Zhongcui Palace.
“I just can’t remember.” Otherwise she wouldn’t be so stuck on it.
“Well, if you can’t recall it, never mind. Shall we go to the Imperial Garden?” No sooner had Yin Cheng asked than he spotted someone stepping out through Zhongcui Gate ahead.
An elderly nursemaid in a dark, plain robe stepped through the great gate of Zhongcui Palace. But once outside, she simply stood in place, unmoving, as if waiting for Yin Cheng’s group to walk over.
“This old servant pays respects to the Eleventh Prince, may the Eleventh Prince live a long life.” She lowered herself into a deep bow and held perfectly still.
“Please rise, madam.” Yin Cheng accepted the greeting. “Does Consort Rong have something to say?” Otherwise, why would this woman appear at precisely this moment?
“The Eleventh Prince is sharp indeed. Her Ladyship heard that the Eleventh Prince has returned to the palace, such happy news, and Her Ladyship is delighted too.” The nursemaid trailed off mid-sentence, her eyes sweeping over briefly. “And this must be the Eleventh Prince’s secondary consort, this old servant pays respects to you as well.”
As she spoke, she began to lower herself into another bow.
“No need, no need, please rise quickly, madam.” Yin Cheng stopped her at once.
This was, after all, the senior nursemaid attending Consort Rong of Zhongcui Palace, his secondary consort couldn’t possibly accept such a formal courtesy. It seemed clear now that this woman had come specifically for his secondary consort’s sake.
“The Eleventh Prince is too kind to this old servant. This old servant has spent most of her life in this palace, if the Eleventh Prince doesn’t mind, allow this old one to speak plainly, as a gesture of goodwill toward you.” The nursemaid didn’t press the matter further, simply straightening up.
“Please, speak freely, madam.”
“Eleventh Prince, there are no shortage of eyes in this palace watching your secondary consort.” She lowered her voice. “Consort Yi made quite a public show of finding someone to counter your bad luck through marriage, and there are already plenty of people unhappy about it. It’s fine for you to walk her around the palace grounds now. But aren’t you worried this might bring trouble down on your secondary consort later on?”
A secondary consort, to put it bluntly, existed purely for a prince’s amusement, not fit to be shown off in public. With the Eleventh Prince now walking her around the palace grounds openly like this, what would the future primary consort, once she entered the household, think of all this?
“That’s all speculation with nothing behind it, madam, no need to spread alarm.” Yin Cheng simply didn’t care much for this kind of talk within the palace.
“Believe it or not, as the Eleventh Prince pleases, this old servant has said what needed saying. Once Consort Yi returns to the palace, you’re welcome to look into it yourself. This old one won’t intrude on your outing any further.” She slowly withdrew back through the gate of Zhongcui Palace.
Throughout the whole exchange, Zhao Xiaojin had been kept sheltered behind him. She’d heard what the old nursemaid said, and though she hadn’t understood every word, she was fairly certain she’d caught the general gist.
Was she saying she shouldn’t have come outside? Would she get into trouble because of this?
Zhao Xiaojin tugged at the little monk’s sleeve, hoping for an explanation.
“It’s fine, nothing to worry about.” Although she carried the title of secondary consort, Li Rongjing had already said that his mother’s business of finding a bride to counter his bad luck was something their father was well aware of.
Whatever anyone else’s objections might be, his father stood behind it from the start. Besides, ever since his secondary consort had arrived, his health really had improved dramatically. That much credit, she’d fully earned.
If he were being honest, he thought his mother had actually been rather stingy about it. Having saved his life, petitioning for the title of side consort would hardly have been out of line. If this bride brought in to counter bad luck had come from a slightly higher station, even granting her the formal title of a prince’s consort wouldn’t have been out of the question.
He was just some bald prince who couldn’t lift a finger to do anything useful, what was there about him worth anyone’s scheming? His older brothers, already married, already with sons of their own, weren’t they tempting enough targets already?
Still, in the end, he didn’t dare take the risk himself.
“Let’s head back for now. We’ll come out again another time.”