At the third quarter of the time hour, the sun was just right.
Shen Zhiyi stood in the courtyard of Fangcao Hall, looking at the neat row of radish sprouts that had just broken through the soil, her mood lifted.
Five days since planting. An 87% germination rate.
Better than she had expected.
“Miss.” Qingtang came running over, holding a set of clothes.
“From the Imperial Household Department.”
Shen Zhiyi took the outfit and shook it open. Autumn-yellow satin, embroidered with winding floral patterns. The material wasn’t top-grade, but it was new.
“What did the person who delivered it say?”
“They just said…” Qingtang hesitated.
“They said it would be perfect for Your Ladyship to wear to the Imperial Garden today.”
Shen Zhiyi smiled.
The people in the Imperial Household Department were certainly well-informed.
Two days ago, she had casually asked Huai’an who audited their accounts. This morning, new clothes were delivered to her door.
Not flattery.
A probe.
They were testing her background, testing the emperor’s attitude toward her, testing whether she was worth siding with.
“Then I’ll wear it.” She handed the clothes back to Qingtang.
“Do my hair—keep it simple, nothing too flashy.”
Qingtang acknowledged, then said softly while taking the clothes, “Miss, outside…”
“What about outside?”
“This servant went out to fetch water this morning and heard a few palace maids talking,” Qingtang lowered her voice.
“They said the Imperial Garden will be crowded today. Consort Shu and Consort De will both be there. And… they said they want to see what the new consort looks like.”
Shen Zhiyi let out a quiet “oh” and sat before the dressing table.
Want to see what she looked like?
More like they wanted to see a spectacle.
A maid had just died in Consort Shu’s palace—she was probably itching to vent her anger.
With Shen Zhiyi, the “discarded consort near the Cold Palace,” appearing in the Imperial Garden, she’d make a perfect target.
“Miss, what if…” Qingtang spoke cautiously.
“What if we don’t go? We could say you’re feeling unwell…”
“The emperor ordered it.” Shen Zhiyi looked at her reflection in the mirror.
“Not going would be defying an imperial decree.”
Qingtang fell silent.
Shen Zhiyi adjusted a loose strand of hair by her ear.
She understood Xiao Jue’s move.
Sending her to the Imperial Garden wasn’t about letting her enjoy the sun.
It was to let everyone see—this substitute bride from a concubine-born line, he neither favored nor punished.
What did the palace fear most?
Not favor, and not neglect.
But uncertainty.
Those favored had their way of dying.
Those neglected had their way of surviving.
But those who were “uncertain”—no one dared touch them.
Because no one knew when they might turn things around.
“Let’s go.” Shen Zhiyi stood.
Qingtang followed, but after a couple of steps, she turned back, grabbed the old book from the dressing table, and quickly tucked it into her sleeve.
“Why are you taking that?” Shen Zhiyi noticed.
Qingtang pressed her lips together. “Last time you looked at it, Miss, you seemed to care about it. In case you have time on the way and want to read it…”
Shen Zhiyi glanced at her but said nothing.
This girl was observant.
The Imperial Garden lay on the eastern side of the palace. From Fangcao Hall, it took nearly half an hour to walk there.
Shen Zhiyi deliberately slowed her pace.
Not to admire the scenery—but to be seen.
Along the way, every palace maid and eunuch they encountered stopped, bowed, and then secretly lifted their eyes to size her up.
That look was familiar.
Back in modern times, when a new colleague arrived in the lab, people would look the same way:
—What’s their background?—Are they easy to deal with?—Are they worth currying favor with?
Shen Zhiyi responded to all of them with a gentle smile—soft, harmless, like someone with no temper at all.
After walking about a hundred steps, Qingtang leaned closer and whispered, “Miss, there are three people following us.”
“Mm.”
“Should we…”
“No need.” Shen Zhiyi didn’t slow down.
“If they want to follow, let them. They can help spread the word.”
Qingtang paused, then understood.
This was exactly what her miss wanted—people to spread rumors.
And what rumor?
That the one in Fangcao Hall was soft, someone anyone could bully.
Only when that message reached the right ears… could things truly begin.