Chapter 112.

After disposing of Noble Consort Wen and burying the bodies of eunuch Wang Shi and maid Feicui in a sunlit area to suppress lingering evil, Jingren Palace held another elaborate ritual.

For once, there were no sudden thunderstorms or wild winds interrupting the proceedings. Everything concluded smoothly, almost unnervingly so.

However, Emperor Longfeng wasn’t so lucky. The earlier shock had taken a toll on his already fragile health. Once the tension eased, his body crumbled under the strain, succumbing to another bout of illness.

In Qianqing Palace, the scent of medicinal herbs lingered in the air, and the emperor’s chambers were abuzz with a flurry of daily decoctions. Haunted by the imperial physicians’ warnings of a potential stroke, Emperor Longfeng quickly summoned Yin Ciguang, his eldest son, who had only recently moved into An Prince’s Mansion, back to the palace to tend to him.

Yin Ciguang, ever dutiful, didn’t so much as bat an eye. Without complaint, he packed up his belongings and settled back into the side halls of Qianqing Palace. There, he tirelessly attended to his father, massaging, feeding medicine, and managing care with a meticulousness that outshone the eunuchs and maids combined.

Though Emperor Longfeng had never been particularly close to his eldest, watching Yin Ciguang work so selflessly stirred a hint of guilt in him.

The emperor’s Consort Rong had perished by poison, and while Noble Consort Wen deserved death for her crime, he’d been too indulgent to deliver the fatal sentence. He’d assumed Yin Ciguang would harbor resentment. Yet, here the boy was, not a trace of grievance or bitterness visible in his demeanor.

Perhaps it was because this eldest son had been raised as a girl for the first decade of his life. His temperament had grown soft, yielding, as fluid and gentle as water itself.

The faint, flickering warmth of a father’s affection stirred in Emperor Longfeng’s heart. Watching his son calmly replace the incense burner with a serene expression, the emperor spoke, his tone lighter than usual: “An official submitted a proposal today regarding preparations for my longevity festival. You’ve shown yourself to be organized and reliable—this year’s festival shall be entrusted to you.”

The emperor’s birthday celebration was no minor affair. Each year it was a grand, ostentatious event, rife with opportunities for profit. Emperor Longfeng had always left its planning to the second prince (*noble consort Wen’s deceased son), his clear favorite.

This year, he’d initially intended to pass the responsibility to the third prince. But looking at Yin Ciguang now, he changed his mind.

Yin Ciguang blinked, visibly startled. “Father, the longevity festival is a significant occasion. I lack experience and worry I might fail to meet expectations…”

Emperor Longfeng, however, seemed in unusually high spirits. He waved dismissively, gesturing toward the eunuch Gao Xian, who stood nearby. “That’s easily solved. Gao Xian is seasoned in such matters. You may consult him as needed. Just handle it.”

Hesitating briefly, Yin Ciguang finally bowed low in deference. “Your son will do his utmost to ensure Father is not disappointed.”

Pleased by the display of filial piety, Longfeng waved him off with a smile. “Enough. You may leave. I’m going to rest now.”

The scene, father and son in harmonious understanding, left Emperor Longfeng in a rare moment of contentment as he dismissed the attendants.

Once outside the main hall, Gao Xian couldn’t resist leaning in, his voice low and sly. “Congratulations, Your Highness. Overseeing the longevity festival is a rare honor. You must seize this chance.”

His words carried a subtle weight, his gaze laden with meaning.

Yin Ciguang, always adept at reading the undercurrents, offered a warm smile and a slight bow. “I’m still young and inexperienced. I’ll be relying on your guidance, Chief Gao, to navigate this.”

Satisfied with the response, Gao Xian beamed, his small eyes crinkling with mirth. “Of course, Your Highness. Leave it to me.”

The news of the eldest prince being tasked with the longevity festival spread swiftly through the palace, sparking waves of speculation.

Yin Ciguang had once been close to the Crown Prince, but since Consort Rong’s untimely death, their relationship seemed to have cooled. For court officials, who had previously dismissed the first prince as a powerless figure, this shift in imperial favor was not to be ignored. First, he returned to the palace to personally care for the emperor, and now, without fanfare, he had been entrusted with a prestigious task.

The implications were clear, and many began reconsidering their allegiances.

While the Crown Prince’s position remained secure for now, the court remembered well the fallout when the second prince had fallen out of favor. Many who had once supported him were left adrift, scrambling to recover from their misplaced loyalty.

For those who had burned their bridges with the Crown Prince, aligning with Yin Ciguang might be the only viable path forward.

With lessons from past failures still fresh in their minds, these officials didn’t dare blatantly pick sides anymore. But the number of invitations piling up at Prince An’s residence was telling—a flood of insincere flattery disguised as loyalty.

Everyone had their eyes on Prince An’s every move, overtly or otherwise, trying to read his stance. Yet what did they find? Nothing. He wasn’t attending anyone’s banquets, not a single damn one. Instead, he invited the Crown Prince over for tea. Tea, of all things.

This deliberate ambiguity only muddied the waters. His position? Impossible to pin down.

Claim he’s disinterested in the throne? No one buys that.

Who wouldn’t crave the power of the empire’s ultimate seat? Anyone who says otherwise is lying through their teeth.

And let’s not forget the whispers—Concubine Rong’s death might not have been the Empress’s doing directly, but word is, Noble Consort Wen aimed for the Empress and missed, killing Rong instead. It’s a palace rumor soaked in venom.

Be honest—who wouldn’t bear resentment in his shoes?

Yet here’s Prince An, acting like a perfect, loyal brother to the Crown Prince, playing the harmony card while seething underneath. It’s clear he’s someone who can endure and manipulate, a man who knows how to bide his time.

And frankly, he’s got more potential to contend for the throne than the Second Prince ever could.

While the outside world buzzed with speculation about the Crown Prince and Prince An’s suspiciously cordial relationship, the Third Prince’s residence wasn’t deaf to the noise.

Frustrated, Yin Chengjing clenched his jaw, seething through gritted teeth. “Yin Ciguang has nerves of steel. Imagine, setting aside his own mother’s grudge just to keep up appearances with the Crown Prince.”

Yao Shi, ever the soothing presence, poured him tea and gently clasped his hand. “Do you really think he’s let it go? If he had, he wouldn’t have taken on the job for the Emperor’s longevity celebration. He’s simply lying low for now, waiting for the right moment to strike. My father has sent word—we’ll have people dig into Prince An’s motives.”

“You make a solid point,” Yin Chengjing said, his tone softening as he took her hand in return. “But you’re with child now, so don’t trouble yourself with these outside matters. Just focus on taking care of yourself and the baby.”

Caught in the tender warmth of his words, Yao Shi’s cheeks flushed as she nodded. “I understand.”

He cajoled her with sweet nothings until she reluctantly returned to rest.

But as she disappeared into the back courtyard, Yin Chengjing’s gentle expression darkened. His lips curled in disdain as he snatched up a handkerchief and wiped his hand vigorously, as if scrubbing off something vile. His disgust was palpable, as though touching her had sullied him.

As Yao Shi passed through the intricately carved gateway, she ran into Princess Uju. The two women exchanged shallow pleasantries, both masking the complicated tension beneath their words.

Despite being only a concubine, Uju held the high status of a diplomatic princess. She wasn’t required to bow, even to the official wife.

Yao Shi reminded herself of her father’s advice: This foreign princess isn’t worth your concern. She’s just a tool in a marriage alliance. The Third Prince would never allow her to bear his child.

Before her marriage, Yao Shi had been wary of the rumors swirling about Princess Uju, particularly the infamous Danxi hunting party. But after settling into the prince’s household, those fears evaporated.

Since their wedding, the Third Prince hadn’t visited Uju’s quarters even once, preferring to spend his nights with Yao Shi.

In the battlefield of a royal household, a woman’s power stems from two things: the prince’s favor and the children she bears.

And Uju had neither. Nor would she ever.

Standing before the dazzling foreign beauty, Yao Shi felt no jealousy—only pity.

But Uju, skilled in navigating the treacherous waters of male ambition, didn’t miss the flicker of condescension in Yao Shi’s gaze. Her lips curved into a smile as her eyes lingered on Yao Shi’s still-flat belly, her amusement laced with an unreadable emotion.

With a soft, mocking laugh, she walked past, leaving Yao Shi bewildered, unable to decipher the unspoken warning in Uju’s eyes.

Two women brushed shoulders, each pitying the other in silence.

Uju headed straight for the main hall, her steps light, her target clear: the Third Prince himself.

Here’s the requested translation and rephrasing:

The moment Yin Chengjing saw her, he didn’t even bother with pretense. His face, dark and stormy, made it clear she wasn’t welcome. “What are you doing here?” His voice dripped with disdain.

Both of them knew exactly what filth and schemes lay beneath this sham of a marriage. Their mutual loathing had reached a point where no effort was made to hide it.

Unbothered, Uju seated herself across from him, poured tea for herself, and spoke casually, “The prince’s residence is stifling. I’m moving to the countryside for a while.”

Yin Chengjing’s sneer deepened, his cold eyes sharp as a serpent’s tongue, scanning her disdainfully. “Do you think this is some Tatar territory? You’re not a Tatar princess anymore; you’re my concubine. I suggest you behave, or you might find yourself without a place here altogether.”

But Uju didn’t flinch. Instead, she scoffed, tapping the tea table impatiently with the handle of her whip. “I’m not here to ask. I’m here to inform.”

Her eyes locked with his, unwavering and smug.

She knew he wouldn’t dare touch her. As long as he needed the Tatar’s allegiance and aspired to the throne, she held the upper hand. Not to mention, she had his dirtiest secret in her grip. Why would she bow to someone barely fit to be called a man?

Her arrogance struck a nerve, leaving Yin Chengjing seething with helpless rage. He could do nothing but grit his teeth as she drained her tea, turned on her heel, and left.

In high spirits, Uju returned to her quarters, instructing her maids to prepare a carriage.

*

As twilight descended, Xue Shu arrived at Ciqing Palace.

He had picked up a habit during their time in Huguang—sharing the same bed. Now, as night fell, he’d find any excuse to sneak into the palace and linger until he wasn’t sent away.

After being told off twice, Yin Chengyu eventually stopped caring. After all, the palace, inside and out, was their territory, sealed tight against prying eyes.

Tonight was a rare reprieve from affairs of state. Instead of handling court matters in Hongren Hall, Yin Chengyu had returned early to his chambers. A young tiger cub, round and plump, lay curled up beside him. Reclining on a wide lounge chair, he buried his bare feet in the cub’s luxuriously soft belly fur.

Xue Shu stepped in and immediately scowled at the sight of the cub.

Feigning seriousness, he approached with hands clasped, pretending to report something. Out of Yin Chengyu’s line of sight, he gave the cub a sharp nudge with his toe, trying to shoo it away.

“Uju agreed to meet, but she insists on speaking directly with Your Highness. The location is set at Suhe Manor on the outskirts of the capital. She plans to stay there for at least half a month. We can pick a time to meet her.”

“Suhe Manor?” Yin Chengyu asked, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t the spring farming estate nearby?”

Xue Shu confirmed it.

“Then arrange it for after the spring farming. We can head there under the guise of routine duty,” Yin Chengyu decided.

The founding emperor of Great Yan, to remind his descendants of their roots, had decreed that each year the emperor must personally plow the fields at the imperial estate. Over time, the tradition persisted, though not all emperors followed it.

For instance, the current emperor, Longfeng, avoided such labor under the excuse of illness, delegating the task to Yin Chengyu instead.

“I’ve also acquired a residence near the imperial estate,” Xue Shu added smoothly. “Once Your Highness finishes the labor, it would be the perfect spot to rest for a few days, away from the palace’s prying eyes.”

Yin Chengyu cast him a sidelong glance, a smirk playing on his lips. “A retreat for me, or an excuse for you to act on your impatience?”

As he spoke, his gaze flicked downward, lingering suggestively on Xue Shu’s abdomen, laden with meaning.

Life within the palace walls was always stricter than the world outside, and Ciqing Palace was especially a place of scrutiny. Countless pairs of eyes, seen and unseen, lingered, always watching.

It had been far too long since the two had indulged in their passions.

When Xue Shu’s thoughts were laid bare, he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he licked his lips, circled behind, and braced himself on the armrests, caging the other man in his embrace. His voice dripped with a sensual mockery: "I think of Your Highness every day. And you? Do you ever think of me?"

His rough fingers traced over the delicate line of his neck, brushing the Adam’s apple with a teasing pressure. Xue Shu leaned in, his lips grazing the curve of his ear as he murmured with a low chuckle, "Back then, if I left you alone for even a few days, didn’t you find yourself desperate?"

In a past life, he’d been a eunuch—a mutilated man who lived in constant fear. Fear that the man he adored would despise him for his inadequacies. Fear that his lover might seek satisfaction elsewhere. He’d stooped to low, despicable schemes just to keep him tethered. Once, when Yin Chengyu had been drugged during an outing beyond the palace walls, the two had been stranded for days. Though the drug's effects had been quelled, the experience left Yin Chengyu irrevocably sensitive.

He might have denied it with all his might, but those trembling moments of ecstasy were impossible to counterfeit.

At the mention of their shared past, Yin Chengyu turned sharply, biting down on Xue Shu’s lip with a ferocity that spoke of lingering anger. He didn’t answer the accusation but made his thoughts perfectly clear.

*

Three days later, Yin Chengyu led his officials to the royal farm for the spring plowing.

The fields had been tilled in advance, but once they arrived, Yin Chengyu changed into coarse work clothes and personally joined in the labor.

With the crown prince himself getting his hands dirty, none of the ministers or generals dared slack off. Grumbling inwardly, they donned their work clothes, took up seedlings, and descended into the muddy fields.

From morning until dusk, they toiled. By the day’s end, the fields were lush with tender green shoots, a sight that brought a sense of satisfaction to all. Yin Chengyu noticed the elder ministers wincing and rubbing their sore backs, but they wouldn’t dare voice their exhaustion. In a rare display of compassion, he dismissed them to rest.

He, too, retired to bathe.

As he relaxed, Xue Shu stood behind, kneading his shoulders with firm hands while delivering updates. "The meeting with Uju is set. Tomorrow, at the hour of You (5-7 pm)."

There was no urgency—spring plowing would be followed by several days of residence at the royal estate. Yet, Xue Shu had purposefully arranged the meeting so soon. Yin Chengyu glanced back at him, amusement curling at the edges of his lips.

The next day, under the guise of inspecting the royal estate, Yin Chengyu and Xue Shu made their way to Suhe Pavilion.

Though called a pavilion, the estate sprawled across a mountainside, its grandeur undeniable. At the base lay sprawling stables and a serene lake. Midway up the slope, intricate courtyards dotted the landscape. At the summit, a natural hot spring cascaded down, temperate and inviting in all seasons. It was a favored retreat for the nobility of the capital.

Uju’s chosen courtyard perched high on the mountain, secluded and shielded from prying eyes.

A young servant escorted the pair inside, bowing respectfully before retreating. Within, Uju’s entourage awaited—youths with striking features, one of whom stepped forward to open the door to the inner chamber.

The faint scent of incense filled the air as Yin Chengyu stepped inside. Lounging lazily on a luohan bed, Uju greeted them with a languid smile. Two strikingly handsome men flanked her, their posture intimate and teasing.

Yin Chengyu’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, but Uju was unbothered. She adjusted her robes, dismissed her attendants with a wave, and straightened with a more composed air. Her gaze lingered briefly on Xue Shu, her playful demeanor tempered as she turned to Yin Chengyu.

"So, Your Highness," she purred, her voice silken and sharp, "what sort of collaboration do you have in mind?"