Chapter 322 Qi Shunying

Chapter 322: Qi Shunying

In March, as grass sprouted and orioles sang, the snow that had accumulated all winter in the capital had completely melted, nourishing the withered roots beneath the frozen soil.

Tender sprouts, eager to break through the earth, cautiously unfurled tiny leaves; hibernating animals scrambled out to nibble on the fresh shoots.

The ice covering the city’s canals had grown thin and brittle. Worried children might be tempted to play upon it, Song Tingzhou had long since ordered the constables to shatter the ice, allowing it to melt swiftly into the river water.

The last lingering chill of winter gradually faded as spring’s first warmth arrived. News from Lingnan, carried on a lively spring breeze, swept all the way into the imperial palace.

“The Crown Prince is alive?” Consort Nie slammed her hand onto the table. The ornate jade nail guard adorning the ring finger of her right hand snapped instantly under the impact, splitting cleanly in two.

Tiny droplets of blood welled from her pale, jade-white fingertips, causing nearby palace maids to instinctively curl their own fingers—even their breath caught for a moment. Yet Consort Nie didn’t so much as blink. Her sole focus remained fixed on interrogating the palace attendant kneeling before her.

The attendant knelt low, replying in a hushed voice: “Prince Lian has sent word back. He reports that the heir of Marquis Zhongyi found him first—and they may already be en route to the capital.”

“Worthless!” Consort Nie spat.

Her words dripped with contempt for Prince Lian and searing fury. “The Duke of Dingxiang entrusted him with troops and dispatched elite experts and strategists to assist him—yet in the end, he couldn’t even stop that greenhorn Qin Jiao. Such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, such a massive operation—and still, he allowed the Crown Prince to return to the capital alive. Worthless! Utterly worthless!”

A shimmering glass goblet shattered violently against the floor. Sharp shards sliced into Consort Nie’s already injured, jade-like hand, adding another bloody gash.

She quickly realized anger served no purpose now—and swiftly composed herself. In a cold, clipped tone, she ordered the kneeling maids: “What are you staring at? Clean this up.”

The maids, long accustomed to their mistress’s volatile moods, sprang into action immediately—silently clearing the mess, not even daring to draw a deep breath.

“Send a message outside the palace to the Duke—have him come here at once.”

After the attendant departed, Consort Nie sank onto the daybed, its screen turned toward her, and closed her eyes to rest.

The foot warmer still sat atop the footstool; merely resting her feet upon it for a moment brought beads of sweat to the tip of her nose.

A maid carefully removed the foot warmer, then knelt before her and gently wiped the hand hanging limply at her side with a handkerchief—moving with extreme caution, terrified of causing her mistress pain.

Fingers were connected to the heart—of course it hurt. Consort Nie kept her eyes shut, her fingers twitching occasionally—but uttered not a sound. Her endurance was extraordinary.

“Your Highness, His Majesty is on his way,” announced a young eunuch from beyond the door, his voice soft and thin, fearful of disturbing Consort Nie.

“Understood. You may withdraw.”

Only after speaking did Consort Nie open her eyes. The cracked nail guard had been removed, revealing the split nail beneath.

“Bring me a new set of nail guards.”

She changed into a bright yellow round-collar robe embroidered with peonies and auspicious clouds, then pressed the new nail guard firmly onto her injured finger. A searing pain contorted her face—but she choked back the cry rising in her throat.

When the Emperor entered, Consort Nie’s palace exuded perfect calm. She greeted him with a blend of deference and familiarity.

No consort selection had taken place in years. Aside from his monthly visits to the Empress’s quarters on the first and fifteenth of each month, the Emperor spent more time in Consort Nie’s residence than anywhere else in the harem.

She enjoyed greater favor and affection than the Empress herself—and almost no one in the palace dared oppose her.

The Emperor smiled warmly and indulgently. “Did you dislike the incense tributed by the Tibetan Empire? Why haven’t I seen you use it?”

Consort Nie stirred the ashes in the burner with a small incense shovel, revealing a sliver of the incense stick beneath. “Tibetan incense is too sharp and crisp. I prefer Xiaogang incense from Xinhui.”

The Emperor displayed infinite patience. “Then next year, when the fruit preserves and incense from Lingnan arrive as tribute, I’ll let you choose first.”

“Thank you for your grace, Your Majesty.”

Mention of Lingnan reminded Consort Nie of Song Tingzhou’s sharp-tongued husband. Trapped in the harem for years—where everyone bowed and obeyed her—she had nonetheless been challenged by the husband of a mere third-rank official.

“Your Majesty,” she said, “speaking of Lord Song—I noticed he has only one spouse and few heirs. Out of kindness, I sent him two charming beauties—but they were snatched away right at the foot of the imperial city.”

The Emperor responded casually: “Oh? Is that so?”

Consort Nie discreetly observed his expression. “I wonder what sort of scoundrel would dare such boldness. Perhaps I lack Your Majesty’s awe-inspiring authority. Had *you* bestowed them, they surely would have reached the Song residence safely, wouldn’t they?”

“Does the Consort concern herself so deeply with important court officials?” The Emperor’s tone shifted subtly—only someone who had spent years reading his moods could detect the danger lurking beneath.

Harem interference in court affairs was a grave taboo—especially for Consort Nie, whose father was a powerful duke commanding significant military forces.

Another consort might have collapsed with fear by now—but Consort Nie remained as unshakable as Mount Tai.

In many ways, far more than the flashy yet ineffectual Prince Lian, Consort Nie embodied the Nie family’s true decisiveness.

“How would I know anything about important officials?” she replied lightly. “Hasn’t Your Majesty met Lord Song’s spouse? What a sharp tongue he has! At the New Year’s banquet, he dared speak back to me—in front of everyone.” Though she had a grown son, her meticulous upkeep rendered her coquettishness entirely unobjectionable.

The Emperor appeared to accept her explanation, dismissing it as mere feminine pettiness. “Enough. Meng has just been granted the title of First-rank Dame by me. If I were to send people over now, wouldn’t I contradict my own decree?”

He smiled—but the smile never reached his eyes. Consort Nie understood: she had pushed the boundary as far as it would go—and could press no further.

She conceded gracefully: “Since Your Majesty has spoken, I shall let him off this once.”

The Emperor lingered a while longer before preparing to depart.

Consort Nie feigned surprise. “It’s already so late—won’t Your Majesty stay the night in my palace?”

The Emperor allowed his attendants to help him into his outer robe. “I heard Consort Liang is unwell. I’ll go see her.”

Women of the harem had to know their limits—even in jealousy. This was certainly no time for childish tantrums. Consort Nie respectfully saw the Emperor off.

Only after the imperial procession had receded did she rise—lost in thought about Consort Liang.

A consort who had entered the palace years ago yet borne no child? Plain-looking, weak-willed, perpetually ill. Six years ago, following Consort Jing’s death in childbirth, her son had been given to Consort Liang to raise. Consort Liang’s family held only fifth-rank provincial posts—and the Sixth Prince was an adopted son. On the surface, nothing seemed amiss.

Yet Consort Nie sensed something was wrong. It was a woman’s intuition.

“Have those close to His Majesty watch closely—don’t let a single clue slip.”

The Sixth Prince was six years old now. Though still a child—what if the Emperor lived another ten years?

A six-year-old prince would reach adulthood in ten years. Would her own son—and the Crown Prince—end up paving the way for someone else?

And the Duke… could not wait another decade either.

—

The weather warmed, the scenery brightened—and even Zheng Shushen, resting at home during her pregnancy, couldn’t resist planting flowers and herbs in her new residence.

Leisurely noblewomen across the capital began hosting banquets—admiring peach blossoms one day, strolling through gardens the next.

Meng Wan received invitations one after another—even one from the Huaien Earl’s residence. He declined most of them, having little interest. By his calculations, the Lingnan account books should arrive soon. Rather than being gawked at like a performing monkey, he preferred staying home—tallying accounts and counting money.

Whether due to Prince Lian’s arrogance or Lin Conghui’s haughty demeanor, he ignored the Huaien Earl’s invitations entirely—as if they’d never existed.

But yesterday morning, an invitation arrived from Count Chengen’s residence. That was somewhat harder to refuse. Neighborly relations still needed maintaining—they’d live near each other for decades, perhaps even across generations. To decline outright would be impolite.

Meng Wan was deeply grateful his other neighbor was Lord Kou, Minister of Revenue. The Kou family never spent money without expecting something in return. If they extended an invitation, it was always to collect gift money.

"Wear the new blue-green satin jacket that Lan Yue sent over." Meng Wan instructed Zhifan after washing up in the morning.

Lan Yue was the Yao ethnic young man that Tao Shi had married—deft with his hands and skilled at making clothes.

After settling the lodgings for the group of subordinates who accompanied Song Tingzhou to the capital, Meng Wan funded their wives in opening a ready-made clothing shop. Lan Yue was the finest tailor there, and being young and sharp, he also served as the shopkeeper.

The capital did have women-run shops, but most were husband-and-wife establishments. A shop staffed entirely by women and young men like Lan Yue's was quite rare.

At first, neighbors sneered and mocked them—men who'd never accomplished anything themselves laughed, predicting the shop would go under in three days.

But that's not how it played out. The seasonal clothing orders from the Song, Zhu, and Wu families alone kept the little shop bustling nonstop.

Later, women and young men, curious about a shop run entirely by women, began stopping by, and the ready-made clothing business grew better and better, until the shop could barely keep up with demand.

Meng Wan wore a white brocade robe with a light blue-green satin vest embroidered with gold thread on top. He wore no other adornments, having swapped his old, misshapen silver hairpin for a top-quality jade one with a cloud pattern—though the carving was mediocre.

Before leaving, he stopped by Chang Jinhua's quarters to say, "Mother, I'm off now. Don't eat too many pastries—have a real meal at noon."

Song Tingzhou had gone to the Shuntian Prefecture office, and A Yan and Tong'er had left early, carrying schoolbags sewn by Chang Jinhua, to study with Zheng Su. Meng Wan was heading to Count Chengen's residence for a banquet, and with everyone away from home, Chang Jinhua didn't want to bother the kitchen staff.

Jin Gu was in Chang Jinhua's room, stitching shoe soles to keep her company. Hearing this, she laughed and said, "Fulang, rest assured. At noon I'll boil some noodles and make a noodle soup with a rich sauce for the old lady."

Chang Jinhua looked up at him. "You're dressed colorfully enough today. Now that the weather's warm, you should've changed out of those dark clothes a long time ago. Go on—our two families are close, so arriving late would look bad. Don't keep people waiting."

Meng Wan thought, "The ones waiting at the door aren't the hosts, so what's the big deal if they wait a bit?"

He propped his chin on his hand with a pitiful expression. "Ah, Mother, I think you're tired of seeing me hovering around in front of you every day now."

Chang Jinhua had gone from panic to helpless laughter to gradual acceptance to a blank expression. Now she held her needle steady and said, "No, I'm not."

Meng Wan pushed himself up. "Then I'm off now, Mother?"

"Off you go, off you go." Chang Jinhua waved him away casually.

Only after he had left with his people did she look out through the propped-open window.

"Meng Fulang really does care about you, old lady." Jin Gu saw through Chang Jinhua's tough exterior.

Meng Wan's figure disappeared beyond the door, and Chang Jinhua looked away. "He's thoughtful—worries every day that I might be unhappy and goes out of his way to amuse me. When he first came into the family, he wasn't like this. He was timid and hesitant, his head filled with little calculations."

Chang Jinhua smiled as she spoke. Time had flown by to now, and who knew how many more years she could be with the children.

---

Whenever Meng Wan went out, Chi Yu was tasked with protecting him closely, with Huang Ye, Zhifan, and Zhimao also tagging along.

Zhifan and Zhimao were still young and hadn't seen much of the world, so Huang Ye, being more reliable in handling matters, couldn't let his guard down.

An ox cart loaded with baskets of vegetables stopped at the Song family's back gate. The boy driving the cart—no, a young man. Dong Li was fourteen, but so thin and underdeveloped he looked like a kid.

He had been unloading vegetables when he looked up by chance and saw the Song family's carriage, recognizing Chi Yu at the reins. Looking up at the carriage, he could see Huang Ye through the drawn curtain, speaking with someone beside him.

Dong Li knew Huang Ye was impressive—the steward of the Song household, stronger than many men. Holding his basket of vegetables, he stared intently at Huang Ye's profile until the carriage had driven far away.

"Was that the vegetable delivery from Muquan Manor at the back gate?" Zhifan asked curiously, looking back through the window.

Huang Ye leaned over to look as well and caught a glimpse of a short figure standing there beside an ox cart. "Probably. The leeks and lettuce from the manor should be ready for the first harvest."

Meng Wan paid cash on the spot for the tenants' vegetables and never talked about settling with grain after autumn.

Spring was the lean season, when everyone was short on cash to get by.

The wheels creaked over the cobblestone road, and Chi Yu soon drove the carriage to the gates of Count Chengen's residence.

They had arrived early, and only one other carriage was parked in the open area near the outer gate. The count's servants were in charge of minding the carriages.

As Meng Wan got down, the person from the other carriage was about to enter but slowed her steps upon seeing him. "You're Meng Wan?"

She was a young woman in her twenties, dressed in a vermilion long skirt, about the same height as Meng Wan, which made her quite tall. She wasn't plump, but she had broad shoulders and a thick waist, giving her a sturdy appearance.

Meng Wan patted his chest lightly, never having seen her before. "You know me? May I ask which household you belong to, madam? I must say, you look quite unfamiliar to me."

The woman's voice was clear and strong, her expression unreadable. "I'm a daughter of the Qi family. Your husband and mine passed the imperial examinations in the same year. I've heard people mention you."

Aside from Song Tingzhou and Chai Jun, the rest of that year's cohort were nothing special. The palace examination was held once every three years, and those who stood out were few and far between. Everyone was just biding their time, building seniority, and some grew old before they ever got their shot.

Meng Wan was still puzzling over the woman's identity when Count Chengen's wife, Lady Qi, came out to greet her. "Shun Ying, why did you come by yourself? Where are the children? Why didn't you bring them?"