Fu Xinghe thought carefully, making sure the Tyrant Emperor couldn’t precisely trace her through the earrings, before taking them out. She also selected several beautiful gold pieces, packing them individually into lacquered boxes.
Among the jewelry she picked were pieces previously granted by the late emperor to a first-rank titled lady royal, official items. Even though Yu Feng and Li Xiaojing weren’t lacking in jewelry, they couldn’t help but glance at them with admiration.
Meng Dongting treated the Li family like the late emperor had treated the Fu family, generously rewarding them. But unlike the late emperor, Meng Dongting never gifted items for the women of the family; he gave houses, land, and gold practical things.
Li Xiaojing was therefore very pleased with the rare palace items she didn’t normally have.
Fu Xinghe took the opportunity to compliment them as “sisters,” urging them to try on the earrings and see if they suited them.
“These were purchased before I entered the palace, from a craftsman during my travels in Jiangnan. The craftsman had obtained a piece of jade from Kunlun Mountain and only made eight beads from it; I bought four myself. Jade for a beautiful lady, it adds just the right touch,” Fu Xinghe praised smoothly, as if she were a professional salesperson. Satisfied, Yu Feng and Li Xiaojing linked arms and left.
Watching their backs, Fu Xinghe pinched her fingers, a thin layer of sweat forming in her palms. She hoped the Tyrant Emperor would recognize them.
That evening, Fu Xinghe quietly asked Xia Mian, “Does His Majesty eat with the Empress Dowager every day?”
Xia Mian, noticing that the consort wasn’t pressing about Fu Han’s illness but seemed to care about the emperor instead, cheerfully replied, “Since the Empress Dowager returned, His Majesty has gone to Cishou Palace for both lunch and dinner.”
Fu Xinghe asked, “There are many people there, right? How does His Majesty react?”
Her tone was the same as when she used to spy on whether anyone was trying to curry favor with him. Xia Mian simply thought she was seeking entertainment: “Others are just finishing tea or rinsing their mouths, and His Majesty has already finished a bowl of rice and left. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time.”
It’s like a starving ghost who hasn’t eaten in eight lifetimes; nothing else matters besides the food. Eating becomes like reviewing memorials no one dares disturb him.
“What about Miss Li? Did she speak?”
Xia Mian thought for a moment: “Miss Li didn’t go. She’s not married yet, so she shouldn’t sit at the same table.”
Fu Xinghe raised an eyebrow meaning Yu Feng went, and Meng Dongting’s eyes, perched atop his head, never glanced at the rear consorts or noticed the earrings Yu Feng wore. Impressive more than just virtuous.
She rubbed her brows. That route was blocked today.
Late at night, even with the impulse to escape the palace, she had no corresponding lightness skills and had to plan carefully.
Xia Mian quietly spread the bedding, noticing a hint of worry on Fu Xinghe’s forehead. Her heart ached slightly. Their consort was always smiling; seeing her frown like this made Xia Mian wish she could pull out all the treasures just to cheer her up.
But news could not be sent beyond His Majesty’s strict order to Wenhua Hall.
“Your Highness, you should rest.”
Fu Xinghe removed her shoes and got into bed when suddenly there was a sharp noise at the door, the main gate, then the hall door creaked. A gust of cold wind rushed in, and the Tyrant Emperor appeared as if from nowhere, his face dark and forbidding.
A system alarm rang in her head the last time she heard it, he was about to execute Xiao Fengfeng.
Fu Xinghe tensed. In the next moment, a pair of strong hands pulled her from the bed and slammed her against a cool chest. Her waist was gripped tightly, and she let out a muffled groan, struggling for breath.
Her chest vibrated, neither knowing whose heartbeat was faster.
Before she could react, Meng Dongting released her, only to see her stumble slightly, so he grabbed her wrists again and held her waist, laying her back on the bed like planting a carrot.
His voice was cool, high above her: “The earrings for Li Xiaojing and Yu Feng you gave to them?”
Fu Xinghe lowered her head, straightening her clothes and calming her heart. Her face still carried a flush from fright, resembling a shy woman lightly teased.
Meng Dongting glanced at her earlobes and quickly looked away: “Answer me.”
“Yes. I wanted to thank them for informing me about my family’s situation. After all, I am deaf in Wenhua Hall, am I not?” Fu Xinghe carefully planned her words, tilting her head with a faint smirk.
The Tyrant Emperor had come overnight, clearly just discovering the matter of the earrings. He hadn’t spent time with the consorts, so it must have been someone else who informed him.
That day in the valley, Li Xiaozheng had followed to eliminate the remaining rebels. It wasn’t strange that Meng Dongting, after being approached by Li Xiaozheng, would leave this matter for him to investigate. Li Xiaojing returned home today and might have been seen by her brother.
Meng Dongting was observant, but not as sharp as Li Xiaozheng regarding his sister.
Still, his reaction was keen. He immediately suspected Fu Xinghe, pulling her into his arms to feel her shape.
Fu Xinghe exhaled gently. She had gained some weight these days, and altering her body shape had gone even more smoothly than she expected.
The system alarm stopped, indicating the Tyrant Emperor had abandoned his murderous thoughts.
“Where did you get the earrings?”
“I bought them from a craftsman when I traveled,” Fu Xinghe answered.
“Which craftsman?” “In Suzhou,” she replied casually. “How did you find him?”
“Something like Su Aqiang…” Fu Xinghe eyed him curiously. “Do you want to have him make jewelry?”
“Don’t ask so many questions.”
Fu Xinghe smiled faintly: “Your Majesty asks, and I speak openly. I want to know what’s happening with my family. It’s difficult.”
Meng Dongting was unsurprised to see her bargaining. A clever woman like her would certainly see that Su Aqiang was important to him; it would be strange not to seek some benefit.
“Are you threatening me?”
Fu Xinghe spoke plainly: “Before Mid-Autumn, I want to visit my family.”
No extravagant procession, just a small carriage to leave the palace. Her request was modest.
Meng Dongting snorted: “Fu Han is ill.”
Fu Xinghe pressed: “Then his children are his cure.”
Meng Dongting stared at her: “Even if you go, you cannot change the outcome. Fu Han cannot save Ji Qinggou, nor can you.”
Facing the emperor’s decisive gaze, Fu Xinghe steeled herself: “I am only fulfilling filial duty.”
Meng Dongting closed his eyes: “Fine, one day.”
Fu Xinghe quickly fabricated Su Aqiang’s background: “He’s from Jiangsu, near a jade mountain, with a birthmark on his right cheek the size of an egg. I met him a year ago at the Stone Temple in the capital; he was skilled. We agreed to meet the next day, but I never saw him again. I don’t know more.”
She spoke convincingly, and Meng Dongting didn’t notice any flaw.
“You’d better be telling the truth,” he said calmly.
At first, discovering the earrings involved Fu Xinghe had made him anxious, but now his emotions were calm yet complicated he didn’t know why.
Fu Xinghe knew how difficult it was for him to relent on this issue and wanted to keep him from changing his mind. She rolled off the bed, opening a pot of lukewarm milk-based sweet soup.
“Your Majesty, would you like a late-night snack?”
Meng Dongting looked down at the milky sweet soup. His gaze shifted to her bare feet, recalling her wrists earlier. He couldn’t tell which was whiter.
He shook his head. She didn’t wear perfume; she smelled comforting, not like the female rebel. And she was plumper, especially at the chest.
Completely… different.
He had briefly embraced her before, and his mind had already concluded “doesn’t match.” Now, step by step, he analyzed like tiny crimson flames in a dark field, gradually spreading.
He didn’t even realize he was becoming cautious.
“No need,” he said, stepping out quickly.
Fu Xinghe sighed. Pleasing the Tyrant Emperor was tough; she now had a tiny sense of how Yu Feng and others felt. Only a tiny sense.
She analyzed her communication strategy: every time she argued strongly and insisted, Meng Dongting laughed at her audacity and agreed. Appeasing him didn’t work; she’d change tactics in the future.
The next day, Fu Xinghe woke, panting, wiping sweat from her forehead, stretching her neck with a sigh.
The alarm from last night must have scared her; she dreamt of Meng Dongting pressing her down, his eyes bloodshot.
She lifted the quilt compressed tightly, making her unable to breathe, which transformed into a dream.
After falling asleep, she checked the system: 30 points total. She had survived another close encounter with Meng Dongting, adding five points.
Points could accumulate repeatedly for the same person. Her previous guess was wrong; it wasn’t the host’s precious life but that she had repeatedly come close to death in the cottage that counted.
She counted: the original had been knocked out by the Tyrant once, faced a snake once, caught by him once… three times.
She understood now.
She pitied her own misfortune, then immediately got up to go home. She risked the earrings not for sentiment but to act.
Though leaving the palace didn’t involve grandeur, Wenhua Hall still had two eunuchs and four palace maids following.
The Fu family wasn’t far; a carriage could reach them. Uncomfortable with human-carried palanquins, Fu Xinghe chose a horse-drawn carriage.
Meanwhile, a eunuch hurried to the imperial study: “Your Majesty, Fu Han requests you at the Fu residence he has an urgent matter.”
Fu Han would never act lightly; if it weren’t life-or-death, he wouldn’t do this.
Meng Dongting set aside the memorial, emotions deepening: “Did something happen to the consort?”
Fuqian cautiously reminded him: “Your Majesty, she just left the palace. The Fu family likely doesn’t yet know she’s visiting.”
Meng Dongting, giving her one day, didn’t even allow notifying the Fu family half a day in advance.
“Oh?” He leisurely sealed the memorial: “Did they say what matters?”
Eunuch: “Communication shows nothing. The Fu family has no other movement.”
Fuqian suggested: “Shall Your Majesty go?”
Meng Dongting reluctantly agreed.
The consort suddenly returned home. The Fu family’s gate boy was startled, running up to bow. Fu Xinghe stopped him: “Just like before, no need to kneel.”
The boy, just back from a half-month funeral, froze. “Like before?” He had never seen it this way; she used to scold him whenever she returned.
The palace rules were strict; life there was difficult, even Fu Xinghe had learned to be obedient. The boy nodded: “I’ll inform Master and Mistress.”
“No need.” Fu Xinghe waved, walking by herself. She lifted her skirt slightly and went straight to the main room.
A faint medicinal smell reached her; Fu Xinghe hurried inside, coinciding with Mi Dinglan carrying a bowl of medicine into the inner room.
“Xinghe?” Mi Dinglan’s eyes widened. “Why have you left the palace?”
Fu Xinghe’s eyes pricked: “I heard Father was ill.”
“No harm, no harm…” Mi Dinglan put down the bowl, grabbing Fu Xinghe’s hand, asking and fretting. “Did the emperor allow you? Did the Empress Dowager make things difficult?”
Fu Xinghe: “No.”
At that moment, she felt the poetry line: “Ashamed before my parents, I dare not sigh at worldly troubles.” No matter how strict the palace, returning home could only bring good news. To make Mi Dinglan believe, she added, “The emperor also protected me.”
Her face flushed her hardest lie ever.
Despite her effort, Mi Dinglan only smiled faintly: “Then that’s good.” Evidently skeptical.
Love extends even to the husband’s house. If the emperor protected Xinghe, how could he not care for the father-in-law?
“Your father is sleeping; let the medicine cool. We can talk first.”
Xia Mian, following quietly, took five steps back upon noticing Fu Xinghe’s glance.
“What exactly happened to Father?”
Mi Dinglan: “Three days ago, he caught a cold, not serious, but the imperial physician said overthinking worsened his condition, leaving him bedridden.”
“What about Ji Qinggou?”
“About him…” Mi Dinglan’s eyes darkened. “He’s orphaned. When you were born, your father brought a small beggar back after seeing him admire a stone tablet. He taught him at the Fu family school diligent, talented. Your father treated him as both a student and a friend. Now, your father feels guilt. If not for him, Qinggou wouldn’t have become a prince’s peer or gotten involved in royal affairs. In hindsight, your father wishes he hadn’t taken him in. Now, to avoid suspicion, he cannot intervene in Qinggou’s case. You needn’t worry; when the crown prince’s incident happened, it also… passed.”
Fu Xinghe fell silent. A prince’s peer, heavily factioned, the emperor had his stance.
She feared Fu Han couldn’t withstand the shock.
Fu Xinghe patted Mi Dinglan’s hand: “I’ll go see Father.”
Mi Dinglan wanted to carry the medicine: “I’ll do it.”
Fu Xinghe noticed a few small cuts on her fingers, recalling the palace’s unspeakable punishments. Mi Dinglan’s expression changed: “Your hands how?”
Fu Xinghe maintained her consort persona: “I pricked them while making clothes for His Majesty.”
Mi Dinglan half-believed her: “I see… sometimes hiding skill is not bad.”
Could her daughter’s clothing truly be wearable?
Fu Xinghe nodded; they entered the inner room. Fu Han lay in bed, sunken cheeks, sickly.
“Father.” Fu Xinghe called, eyes catching small red spots under the pillow.
Her pupils shrank. The bowl in her hands slipped, spilling onto her body with a clatter. On further inspection, his scalp showed slight poison traces.
She pushed Mi Dinglan aside, moving swiftly to support Fu Han, retrieving a paper package from under his bedding.
Mi Dinglan, fearing she might harm Fu Han’s frail body, tried to stop her.
“The medicine spilled all over you,” Mi Dinglan scolded, brushing off the remnants. “Change clothes, be careful ”
Her voice paused; she couldn’t believe what Fu Xinghe found.
She understood: Fu Han intended to use his own life to plead with the emperor for Ji Qinggou.
“Father ” Mi Dinglan choked.
Fu Han, roused by the commotion, thought back to her unmarried days: “You’re fiddling with your mother’s private funds again?”
Mi Dinglan’s heart sank; he seemed disoriented.
Fu Xinghe stayed calm, burning the powder in the fire until it turned to ashes.
“Father, you’re capable.” Fu Xinghe teased.
Fu Han, having trained her for twenty years, was caught off guard. “I have decided; no one must dissuade me.”
Fu Xinghe: “Then how will you make the emperor agree?”
One stood, one sat; the sitting man seemed smaller. Fu Han, facing interrogation dryly, said: “The late emperor left me an edict.”
The late emperor foresaw one son harming Fu Han, fearing the other might also. He didn’t prepare it for himself but for his daughter. Yet Ji Qinggou got in trouble first.
The edict alone couldn’t pardon treason; it needed his life to ensure the Fu family posed no threat.
Fu Han had sent someone that morning to petition the emperor. He would plead Ji Qinggou’s life and ask leniency for Fu Xinghe’s future misdeeds.
The son-in-law hadn’t arrived; the daughter was first, seeing through his plan.
Fu Xinghe smirked: “The medicine powder’s been opened and some are missing. Looks like Father intended to see the emperor today.”
Fu Han: “Your Majesty is on the way. Return to the palace.”
Fu Xinghe to Mi Dinglan: “Search where Father hides the edict and confiscate it.”
Fu Han: “You… you”
Mi Dinglan, unable to worry about her husband’s life, watched as father and daughter confronted each other like the household pillar had been replaced. She instinctively complied: “Alright.”
Fu Han coughed furiously; Fu Xinghe arranged another doctor.
Mi Dinglan instructed the housekeeper: “Call Doctor Zhang or Doctor Wang…”
To conceal the matter, the imperial physician couldn’t be summoned. But Fu Han was poisoned; ordinary doctors couldn’t treat him. Mi Dinglan was anxious.
Fu Xinghe wrung out the medicine-stained skirt, producing a foul liquid, making her gag.
With both sons away, Mi Dinglan consulted her daughter on every matter.
Fu Xinghe, still dizzy from the medicine’s odor, pressed: “Send for Chief Imperial Physician Jiang. Say my stomach hurts; the emperor is present.”
The physician would understand the request without the emperor needing to instruct him.
Mi Dinglan, tearful, glanced at Fu Han. Could the edict really not remain with her daughter? Her boldness was truly dangerous.