Song Shutang understood in her heart and did not ask further, thanking Lu Ping once more for clearing her doubts.
During the evening meal, the Emperor went to Fuxi Palace to dine with the Empress Dowager, so Song Shutang was not required to accompany him. Relishing the freedom, she reported to the Emperor in advance and headed to Yeting.
Though only two months had passed, the situation had already undergone a dramatic change. Returning to Yeting, Song Shutang felt somewhat dazed.
When she arrived, Cui Wenshu was about to have her dinner.
“You’re here?”
Song Shutang performed a proper salute. “Greetings, Auntie.”
Cui Wenshu personally helped her up, her gaze sweeping over Song Shutang’s face. Seeing the woman’s slightly fuller cheeks and composed expression, she felt somewhat relieved.
Song Shutang moved to the side, intending to serve Cui Wenshu during the meal, but Cui Wenshu stopped her. “Sit down, let’s eat together.”
After a moment of surprise, gratitude followed. “Thank you, Auntie.”
At first, the atmosphere was somewhat stiff, but as the meal neared its end, it had unknowingly eased.
Cui Wenshu casually asked a few questions about matters in the Imperial Presence, and Song Shutang answered each one.
As for the matters between her and the Emperor, she did not elaborate, and Cui Ling did not press further. She only mentioned again that the Candidate Maidens had already entered the palace, and by the end of March at the latest, their selections and ranks would be finalized.
The woman let out a long breath and nodded. “Shutang understands. Coincidentally, there is something I would like to ask for your help with, Auntie…”
When Song Shutang left Cui Wenshu’s room, night had completely fallen. Not far along her way, she encountered an acquaintance on the long street.
“Well, who do we have here?”
The person approached head-on. Her originally calm, slightly mocking expression cracked when she clearly saw Song Shutang’s beautiful face and the quality of her attire.
Look at how radiant she was—her complexion pink and flushed, and the fabric of her clothes was something she had only seen on the mistresses!
At that moment, lanterns hung high along the long street, swaying gently in the wind.
Song Shutang stopped in her tracks, watching the newcomer with utmost calm. After the woman finished speaking, she merely curled her lips in response.
This undoubtedly angered Jianjia even more. She was taller than Song Shutang and much sturdier in build, so when she pulled a long face and stepped closer to Song Shutang, it carried a certain sense of intimidation.
“I heard you went to the Imperial Presence. So, which ladder did you climb? Was it… by selling your looks?”
What people lack the most is often what they resent most in others.
Song Shutang looked at Jianjia’s plain face and chuckled softly, saying nothing. In the past, Jianjia had bullied her many times, all because of the word “jealousy.”
She was not afraid. The calm smile on her face only fueled Jianjia’s growing irritation. “Hmph, your ability to provoke has certainly improved. I wonder if your family will even live to see you like this.”
Slap—
Jianjia covered her face, her eyes wide with disbelief, but the pain in her cheek was all too real. Her voice rose sharply. “Song Shutang, you—”
Her palm still trembling slightly, Song Shutang’s chest heaved with increasing intensity, her expression cold. “If you dare speak disrespectfully again, I won’t mind settling both old and new scores with you.”
The woman’s gaze was icy, her voice as chilling as icicles in the depths of winter, carrying a startling coldness.
For a moment, Jianjia was too intimidated to speak. Her lips quivered, and she stammered for a long time without forming a complete sentence.
Song Shutang could not be bothered to waste any more words on her, viciously throwing down a sentence: “Next time you see me, you’d better walk around me.”
Returning to the West Wing Chamber, Song Shutang’s mood had already calmed considerably.
Raising her hand, she could faintly see her palm slightly red and swollen, enough to show how much force she had used in that slap earlier.
According to palace rules, when those of higher status punish those below, they generally avoid striking the face, fearing it might offend the eyes of some master. But today, Song Shutang lowered her gaze—she could no longer hold back.
Her family remained the deepest concern and fear in her heart. From two years ago, when her father was convicted and thrown into prison, to the complete collapse of the Song family, it had taken less than half a month.
Her father died tragically in prison, her mother struck a pillar and perished, her brother and sister-in-law were exiled, and she entered the palace as a servant.
At just fourteen years old, she fell from being a favored daughter of heaven into the mud in an instant. Over these two years, she had no idea whether her brother and sister-in-law were still alive in this world. Yet Jianjia had used her family to stab at her.
Unconsciously, Song Shutang’s eyes grew moist, tears falling one after another, each drop landing crisply on her hand.
She hoped that one day, she could bring her brother and sister-in-law back to the capital and clear her father’s name.
Pei Hengyu returned to the Imperial Study from Fuxi Palace. As he was about to drink tea, he glanced to the side, somewhat dazed, then said:
“Where is she?”
Lu Ping: “Miss Song should be in her own room at the moment.”
Now that Cairen Kang was pregnant, the Empress Dowager was in a fairly good mood. Thus, when the Emperor went to dine today, the mother and son got along relatively peacefully. The Emperor did not expend much mental effort on this, so he was quite relaxed overall.
As a close attendant, Lu Ping was the first to perceive the Emperor’s state. Hesitating for a few moments, he relayed what he had just learned.
Miss Song went to Yeting (Palace Servants’ Quarters) and had an altercation with someone on the long street, even resorting to physical violence.
There were never any secrets in the palace—at least, in the Emperor’s eyes, there were none.
Thus, what the two had said and done on the long street, Lu Ping could find out immediately if he wished. Moreover… “This palace maid named Jianjia has bullied Miss Song more than once.”
Behind the imperial desk, the man’s brows imperceptibly furrowed slightly.
Lu Ping said: “Once, also in winter, that Jianjia made Miss Song kneel in the snow for a full hour.”
As he spoke, he sighed himself. Miss Song always appeared with a smiling face; who would have known she had suffered so much hardship in Yeting?
But Pei Hengyu did not react as he had expected. Instead, he asked:
“Physical violence—who struck whom?”
“Miss Song struck that palace maid.”
The Emperor chuckled softly, imagining how those delicate hands had lifted and landed on someone’s face. What expression had she worn at that moment?
He glanced at the not-so-urgent court affairs before him and nodded slightly. “Go and summon her.”
“This servant pays respects to Your Majesty.”
“Come here.”
Song Shutang rose and stepped closer to the Emperor, stopping at his right side—the spot where she always stood when grinding ink.
The Emperor’s gaze swept past her slightly reddened eyes and settled on her hands. He asked:
“Which hand did you use to strike?”
“What?” Song Shutang instinctively asked, pausing for a moment before she understood. Unconsciously, she pursed her lips lightly, unsure if the Emperor disliked this.
After all, the mistresses in the rear palace were either dignified and elegant or gentle and submissive. There likely wasn’t one like her… who struck someone on the street. Moreover, in front of the Emperor, she had always been the one to humble herself.
Thus, her reply came out a bit softer, tinged with a guilty conscience that lacked conviction: “The right hand.”
“Raise it.”
She lowered her head, moving slowly as she extended her hand.
Pei Hengyu first noticed that the thin calluses on her palm had disappeared, looking much better than when they first met.
At this moment, her palm was flushed with a faint red, its lines clearly visible, and her fingers were slightly curled.
“Well done,” he said.
“Your Majesty…” Her tone was filled with disbelief.
He nodded. “At least you knew to fight back.” He despised foolish people, as well as those who were too soft-hearted.
In this palace, by his side, there was no need for such people.
Just as he had said last time: she was someone serving in the Imperial Presence. If she was too weak in dealing with people and matters, it would only reflect poorly on him as her master.
Song Shutang clearly hadn’t expected the Emperor to react this way. Her eyes still held confusion, but she soon understood.
The Emperor was genuinely praising her.
The corners of her lips lifted slightly into a small curve as she extended both hands, moving them closer to him. Her voice softened, yet carried a hint of playful reproach:
“After using the hand salve Your Majesty bestowed, my hands aren’t as rough as they were in the Yeting. Otherwise, hitting someone today would have hurt even more.”
This was taking advantage of a good situation and still acting coy.
Yet, it wasn’t unpleasant.
The Emperor’s gaze softened slightly, but he never asked why her eyes were red.
She was merely a woman he found somewhat interesting for now. Getting too involved would only hasten the waning of that interest.
No sooner had Song Shutang returned to the West Wing Chamber than Shun Fu arrived, announcing that the Emperor had bestowed some gifts.
Opening the box, she found two containers of hand salve, packaged even more exquisitely.
She glanced at them, took them out, and gently applied the salve to the back of her hand.
/
Inside Zhongcui Palace.
The matron responsible for training the Candidate Maidens in etiquette came from the Empress’s Chongqian Palace and proceeded to Consort Zhen’s quarters.
What was reported to the Empress was general and formal, but reporting to Consort Zhen was different—it required meticulous attention to every detail.
After reporting everything exhaustively, the matron stood with her hands tucked into her sleeves, awaiting Consort Zhen’s instructions.
On the noble consort’s couch, Consort Zhen reclined leisurely as a palace maid applied rouge to her nails.
With an air of ease, she asked, “Are there any noble ladies who stand out particularly?”
In truth, Consort Zhen had already made an appearance before the Candidate Maidens on the day they entered the palace, but with so many of them, she hadn’t had the leisure to observe each one individually.
The matron carefully recalled and finally mentioned two names.
Consort Zhen’s expression remained unchanged as she calmly instructed, “Keep a close watch on them. If anything happens, send someone to report.”
After dismissing the matron, Consort Zhen focused on watching her maid apply the rouge.
Having lived a life of luxury for decades, her hands were as slender and delicate as scallions. Now adorned with pale pink rouge, they looked even more exquisite.
She raised her hand, admiring it quietly in the sunlight. Ziyun showered her with praise, and Consort Zhen, initially smiling with satisfaction, suddenly felt a wave of listlessness for no apparent reason:
“What about red? Do you think it would look good?”
Ziyun understood Consort Zhen’s meaning and chose her words carefully: “Your Ladyship is naturally beautiful. Any color would suit you.”
Consort Zhen chuckled softly. “Let’s hope so.”
She then asked, “How is Cairen Kang doing?”
The Emperor assigning her to oversee Cairen Kang’s pregnancy was truly not a favorable task. If anything went wrong, she would be the first to be implicated.
Ziyun said everything was being watched, but Cairen Kang was dissatisfied and had her green-headed plaque withdrawn.
Consort Zhen scoffed lightly, “She managed to hide her pregnancy for three months so well. Someone with such capability—does she even care about the green-headed plaque?”
“Enough,” she stood up, “The Eldest Prince hasn’t seen his father in a long time.”
“Let’s take him to pay respects to his father.”