“An anomaly in the celestial signs?”
Shen Zhiyi’s steps paused for a moment.
Inside her sleeve, the Records of Astronomical Observations pressed against her skin.
“Let’s go,” she said, continuing forward.
“Don’t disturb the officials at work.”
But after only a few steps, a voice called out from behind—
“Your Ladyship, please wait!”
Shen Zhiyi turned.
A white-haired elder hurried toward her, dressed in the robes of a fifth-rank official. His complexion was ruddy, and his eyes shone with sharp intelligence.
“This old minister is Zhou Cun, Director of the Imperial Observatory. May I ask Your Ladyship’s name?”
Shen Zhiyi curtsied. “Minister Zhou is too polite. I am of the Shen family, newly entered the palace.”
Zhou Cun’s eyes lit up. “Shen? From the Northern Defense Prince’s residence…?”
“Indeed.”
Zhou Cun suddenly grew excited. “A few days ago, I encountered a young lady in the Imperial Garden. She casually pointed out something about the celestial signs. When I returned and calculated according to what she said, it matched perfectly!”
“May I ask—was that young lady Your Ladyship?”
Shen Zhiyi froze for a brief moment.
People had already begun to gather around them.
She spotted Consort Shu in the crowd, watching with a half-smile.
She also saw another woman in lotus-colored palace attire, gentle in appearance and composed in demeanor—likely Consort De.
All eyes were on her.
“Minister Zhou,” Shen Zhiyi spoke, her voice still soft.
“You’ve mistaken me. I don’t understand celestial signs, nor have I visited the Imperial Garden before that day.”
Zhou Cun was taken aback.
He opened his mouth as if to argue, but when he met Shen Zhiyi’s gentle gaze, his words faltered.
“This…” he frowned.
“But that young lady’s description clearly matches Your Ladyship…”
“Minister,” Shen Zhiyi interrupted with a faint smile.
“There are many people in this world who resemble one another. I am merely a woman raised in seclusion—I haven’t even finished reading the Thousand Character Classic. How could I understand celestial signs?”
Zhou Cun still wanted to speak, but a younger official beside him tugged at his sleeve and whispered, “Sir, this is the one from Fangcao Hall…”
Zhou Cun’s expression changed.
The one from Fangcao Hall.
The substitute bride.
The one the emperor hadn’t even visited on her wedding night.
He cupped his hands. “This old minister has been presumptuous. Please forgive me, Your Ladyship.”
With that, he turned and left.
Soft laughter rippled through the crowd.
The loudest came from Consort Shu’s group.
Qingtang’s face flushed red as she bit her lip hard.
Shen Zhiyi remained standing there, gentle and composed, as if nothing had happened.
But just as she turned to leave—
“Your Ladyship just said you don’t understand celestial signs?”
A low voice came from beyond the crowd.
The people parted automatically.
Xiao Jue stood there, dressed in dark casual robes, with Huai’an behind him.
His expression was neutral, his gaze fixed on Shen Zhiyi like that of a hunter studying prey.
Shen Zhiyi curtsied. “This concubine greets Your Majesty.”
Xiao Jue walked over and stopped in front of her.
Up close, that faint scent of blood lingered on him again.
“I heard what you said just now,” he said, his tone unreadable.
“You said you don’t understand celestial signs.”
“Yes.”
“Then let me ask you.” He paused, his gaze lowering slightly.
“When Mars guards the Heart, what omen does it signify?”
The surroundings fell instantly silent.
Consort Shu’s smile froze.
Consort De lowered her gaze, her thoughts unreadable.
The officials from the Imperial Observatory didn’t dare breathe. The emperor himself asking about celestial signs—was he testing this consort, or condemning her?
Shen Zhiyi lifted her head and met his eyes.
They were deep and cold, but in their depths flickered the faintest trace of interest.
Suddenly, she understood.
He was helping her.
No—not quite.
He was forcing her.
Forcing her to reveal herself, to expose her true nature, to drop her disguise in front of him.
Why?
Because two days ago, when she asked Huai’an who audited the Imperial Household accounts, certain people had grown uneasy.
Xiao Jue needed a reason—a legitimate reason to pay attention to her openly.
And knowledge of celestial signs was the perfect excuse.
Shen Zhiyi lowered her gaze again, her voice still soft.
“This concubine truly does not understand.”
Xiao Jue stared at her.
After a moment, he suddenly smiled.
The smile was faint, but Shen Zhiyi saw it—the hint of interest in his eyes had turned into satisfaction.
“Good that you don’t,” he said. “For women of the harem, knowing too much is not a good thing.”
He turned to leave.
“Your Majesty.”
Shen Zhiyi suddenly spoke.
Xiao Jue stopped but did not turn around.
She curtsied slightly, her voice gentle.
“Though this concubine does not understand celestial signs, I once heard an elder say: ‘The stars are fixed, but the human heart is ever-changing.’”
“Your Majesty asked what omen Mars guarding the Heart signifies. This concubine dares to answer: the omen lies in people’s hearts, not in the heavens.”
Silence fell so completely a pin drop could be heard.
Xiao Jue slowly turned back to look at her.
His gaze was deeper than before—and colder.