“Did the Empress make these herself?”
Li Sheng racked his brain, trying to recall the maid’s words. She hadn’t explicitly said that the Empress made them personally.
Hesitating, he spoke ambiguously, “I imagine it’s the Empress’s heartfelt intention.”
Before him, the Emperor opened the food box.
Inside were the milk cakes, exquisitely made, rectangular in shape, soft and springy to the touch. A thin layer of honey coated the top, sprinkled with tiny osmanthus flowers.
The rich aroma immediately filled the air.
Li Sheng, perceptive as ever, picked up the chopsticks and handed a piece to the Emperor, praising, “These milk cakes are perfect in color, aroma, and taste!”
Chu Ze didn’t actually like overly sweet foods, but since they had been presented, it would be improper not to try them.
He sat and picked up a piece with his chopsticks. The full flavor of the milk was present, and it melted in his mouth.
After sampling a few pieces, he slowly put the chopsticks down. “Not bad.”
Li Sheng understood perfectly: when the Emperor said “not bad,” it actually meant “excellent.”
Chu Ze looked at the food box and recalled recent events.
He had been irritated when he went to Kunning Palace before, because he noticed that every time he visited, the Empress was asleep.
That day, he had deliberately grabbed her wrist to take her pulse, and her breathing had clearly become irregular.
She had been pretending to sleep.
Honestly, Chu Ze thought the Empress was ungrateful.
He had a small interest in her, but not enough to compromise the dignity of the Emperor.
Unexpectedly, today she had sent food—apparently she had been thinking of him.
Chu Ze stood, straightened the sleeves of his long, elegant robes with slender fingers, and then walked out.
Li Sheng hurriedly followed. “Your Majesty, shall we go to Kunning Palace?”
He almost shouted it, only to hear the Emperor’s calm voice: “To Cining Palace.”
Cining Palace?
The words “Kunning Palace” caught in Li Sheng’s throat, forcibly replaced by “Cining Palace.”
Indeed, the mind of an Emperor was as unfathomable as the bottom of the sea.
“I want Mother Consort! I want Mother Consort!”
The eldest prince was throwing a fit, and his wet nurse, Qin Shi, felt her head ache from it.
She could only send a younger maid to accompany the eldest prince to fly a kite, hoping to distract him.
Without Consort De, the eldest prince had lost his protector.
Now, with the Emperor still displeased with the Empress and having not visited the eldest prince recently, nor arranged anything for him, he was essentially neglected.
“The eldest prince is like a useless child. It’s a shame we still have to attend to him,” said another attendant nearby, her tone tinged with melancholy.
Wherever they went, they were now met with resentment, as if their presence would bring trouble.
“If only the Emperor would arrange a place for the eldest prince, which palace could take care of him?”
At present, Consort Xian had to care for the princess; Hui Fei had a son; Consort Rong had lost her son due to Consort De’s schemes.
The only high-ranking consort left with appropriate status was Consort Shu.
Of course, the childless Empress would be suitable, but then the eldest prince might become the heir—a possibility not guaranteed.
After all, Consort De had designs against the Empress.
The eldest prince had truly become a hot potato.
Qin Shi stood, lost in thought. She returned to her room and pulled a rusted, old box from under the bed.
She opened it—not jewels, but a letter.
Hesitant, she tucked it into her sleeve. “Perhaps… perhaps this could secure a good future for the eldest prince.”
She murmured to herself, her chest pounding.
The anxiety spread through her, but she forced herself to rise, swallowing hard, and hurried out.
Walking along the long street, her eyes scanned her surroundings. Though she saw no one, her heart raced.
Turning a corner, she saw a group of people and quickly knelt to pay her respects.
It was Consort Xian and Consort Shu, who had gone for a walk. Their palaces were nearby, so they walked together.
Qin Shi kept her head low, almost holding her breath, afraid to make a sound.
Consort Shu glanced at her without speaking.
Once they passed the palace gate, Consort Xian swayed and returned to the palace.
Qin Shi, seeing everyone leave, breathed a sigh of relief—but barely past the gate, she was pulled into an alley.
Her eyes widened in shock.
“You serve the eldest prince, don’t you? Why are you panicking?”
It was Zhilu, a maid of Consort Shu.
Qin Shi recognized her. She inhaled deeply, trying to hide her fear. “No, I was lost in thought. I only got startled seeing Your Highnesses.”
“Is that so?” Zhilu’s gaze was cold. “Aunt Qin, you must keep your eyes open in this palace. One wrong step and you’ll be buried without a trace.”
Her already-nervous heart leapt into her throat, breaking her composure.
“Miss Zhilu,” Qin Shi said, looking at her, “if I speak, could Consort Shu arrange a place for me and the eldest prince?”
Perhaps Consort Shu would be the best refuge.
“Tell me,” Zhilu said, sizing her up. “Everything will be decided by Consort Shu.”
After the incident with Consort De, the consorts were closely watching the eldest prince’s situation, so seeing Qin Shi, she was specifically sent.
Could there be some shameful matter hidden here?
In Qixiang Hall,
Zhilu returned, entering the inner hall and handing the letter to her mistress.
“My lady, this was delivered by Qin Shi. It’s the blood-written letter Consort De left before her death.”
Consort Shu, seated gracefully before her dressing chest, took it and opened it.
—To the Empress,
Only today do I realize how utterly wrong I was—all my mistakes stemmed from greed.
Once desire took hold, it consumed me. At first, I only stayed by the Emperor’s side hoping for a better future.
But once I got everything, my desires swelled.
Only when facing death does one understand many things.
Perhaps I was too foolish to notice the traitor among us, foolish enough to drag myself and my family into ruin.
I know the earlier incident with Consort Rong was not your doing, nor mine. The mastermind was cunning, using others as pawns.
Empress, all that has happened is entirely my fault.
I was stupid, ignorant, a tool in someone else’s hands.
But the child is innocent. Please show mercy and spare him.
Beware of Consort Xian. She fans the flames. Perhaps the incident with Consort Rong is linked to her.
Consort Shu folded the letter, a cold glint in her eyes.
All of Consort De’s close attendants had been executed. No wonder the wet nurse of the eldest prince was panicking.
If handled poorly, neither side would end well. Consort Xian would not let it slide.
“With this, we can exploit Consort Xian’s weakness. Once we take care of the eldest prince, your promotion to Noble Consort will be imminent!” Zhilu said eagerly.
Consort Shu’s usually gentle face was now icy. “Who said I intend to raise the eldest prince?”