Chapter 89

From that day forward, Xue Shu shelved the waist token of Ciqing Palace and took up a position at the Directorate of Ceremonies.

———TN: "司礼监" (Sīlǐjiān) traditionally translates to something like [ ] "Directorate of Ceremonial," [ ] "Court of Imperial Sacrifices," or [ ] "Office of Rites." It was basically the bureaucratic body in imperial China responsible for managing rituals, ceremonies, and court etiquette. Think of them as the ultimate rule-keepers, the masters of protocol, the gatekeepers of tradition. ———

Meanwhile, Yin Chengyu was swamped. With the Longfeng Emperor bedridden, the responsibility for all court affairs fell squarely on his shoulders, leaving him busier than ever.

It wasn’t until after Laba Festival that the emperor announced he was halting court sessions, granting officials a period of respite. Only then did Yin Chengyu finally catch a breath.

But even this so-called reprieve was a mere illusion—absence from court did not erase the mountain of year-end tasks. On top of that, the court had to host delegations from the Oirats and Tatars, meaning officials swarmed the Ciqing Palace’s Hongren Hall daily to discuss pressing matters.

By the tenth day of the lunar new year, Yin Chengyu finally carved out a moment to visit Kunning Palace to pay respects. On a whim, he decided to bring along the little tiger cub.

Since the birth of Yin Chengyue, Empress Yu—under Yin Chengyu’s direction—had retreated from public affairs, citing frail health and the demands of caring for her young son. She focused entirely on raising the baby within Kunning Palace.

At just eight months old, Yin Chengyue was a plump, rosy-cheeked cherub, carefully nurtured into a round bundle of joy. When he laughed, revealing his two tiny milk teeth, he was a picture of innocence—a far cry from the child of Yin Chengyue's past life.

In that previous lifetime, Yin Chengyue had been retrieved at the age of five—a sullen, silent boy with a hardened gaze devoid of any childlike wonder. He was a stubborn, volatile soul, and Yin Chengyu had spent years painstakingly guiding him back to something resembling normalcy. Though he had never seen Yin Chengyue as an infant in that life, he could easily imagine the bleak, loveless existence that must have shaped the boy’s early years.

Now, gazing at his carefree little brother, with his mother radiating serenity beside him, Yin Chengyu couldn’t help but smile. He set the tiger cub down on the carpet and lifted the chubby baby from his cradle. Pointing to the cub on the floor, he said warmly, “I’ve brought you a playmate today.”

The cub, barely a foot long, had been pampered since arriving at the palace. Bathed and well-fed, it was noticeably rounder than when it was first found. As it padded cautiously across the carpet, its curious, wide eyes surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings.

Little Yin Chengyue, equally curious, stared at the cub with his own big, shiny eyes.

Though too young to speak or walk, the baby was already eager to play and had learned to babble and whine for attention. However, his world was confined to Kunning Palace, and he only ventured outside to the gardens when accompanied by the empress.

Perhaps it was this limited exposure that made him particularly fascinated with his occasional visitor, Yin Chengyu. Far from being shy, he found his elder brother endlessly captivating.

Cradled in Yin Chengyu’s arms, the baby alternated between gazing at him and the cub, unsure which was more interesting.

The empress, watching her son’s antics, chuckled softly. “He’s far livelier than you were at his age. All he wants is to explore. I only take him out when he absolutely insists.”

Her smile faltered briefly, a flicker of concern shadowing her features. But mindful of Yin Chengyu’s burdens, she suppressed any complaints.

Though she refrained from meddling in state affairs, as befitting the empress, she was no stranger to the turbulence of court politics.

The emperor’s indulgent lifestyle, combined with a harem overflowing with women, left her position tenuous. And then there was the formidable Noble Consort Wen—ambitious and cunning. Despite her title as the empress, her influence towards Emperor Longfeng was limited, leaving her little choice but to focus on protecting her sons and avoiding any missteps.

Yin Chengyu, perceptive as ever, caught her unspoken worry. Gently placing the baby on the floor to play with the cub, he seated himself beside her. “Mother, Yin Chengyue is growing up fast. We can’t keep him confined to Kunning Palace forever. Soon, I’ll assign a few trustworthy, skilled eunuchs from the Eastern Bureau to assist you. That should ease your load.”

In this second chance at life, Yin Chengyu had overturned countless fates. The Yu family remained intact, and both the empress and Yin Chengyue were safe.

Yet he knew their enemies had not given up. If they couldn’t target him directly, they would inevitably turn their schemes toward his mother and brother. Already, several attempts had been foiled only because of the empress’s vigilance and her choice to remain within the safety of Kunning Palace.

“Don’t worry about me,” the empress said softly, brushing her hand against his cheek. Her voice was tinged with sorrow. “You’re the one who’s working yourself to the bone. Your uncles and grandfather can’t intervene without raising suspicion, so everything falls on you.”

Yin Chengyu gave a faint smile, unfazed by her concern. Though the recent days had been hectic, with the emperor incapacitated and key figures like the Vice-Chancellor keeping a low profile after the death of Yin Chengzhang, much of his agenda was proceeding smoothly. Compared to the previous life, the present felt almost luxurious.

What he lacked was time—and capable allies.

He spent the entire morning in Kunning Palace, letting the tiger cub entertain Yin Chengyue. But when the visit drew to a close, trouble brewed. The baby had clearly decided the cub was his and threw a tantrum the moment Yin Chengyu tried to take it away.

Face crumpling, Yin Chengyue began wailing, fat tears streaming down his cheeks. It took Empress Yu a long time to console him. Even then, he sniffled pitifully, his gaze fixed on the cub in Yin Chengyu’s arms, as if mourning the loss of his new friend.

Yin Chengyu couldn’t help but laugh. Stroking his brother’s head, he said gently, “You’re still too little. Let me take care of him for now. When you’re older, he can be your steed.”

Satisfied that the tears had stopped, Yin Chengyu finally departed.

After stepping out of Kunning Palace, Zheng Duobao quickly approached, leaning in close to murmur in his ear, “The Eldest Princess sent word earlier, asking Your Highness to meet her at Quyang Pavilion for tea. It seems she has something to discuss.”

Given how rare it was for His Highness to visit Kunning Palace, Zheng Duobao had refrained from barging in and interrupting. He had waited patiently for him to exit before delivering the message.

Yin Ciguang wasn’t someone who sought him out without reason. He always had his limits. If he came, it had to be important. Yin Chengyu handed the tiger cub in his arms to Zheng Duobao. “Take it back. I’ll go see her.”

*

Quyang Pavilion.

When Yin Chengyu arrived, Yin Ciguang was already seated inside the pavilion. Beside her, a clay stove was steadily emitting plumes of steam, the boiling water bubbling so fiercely that the pot’s lid trembled as if it had been simmering for quite a while.

He gestured for his guards to stay back, then strode forward without ceremony, seating himself directly across from her. “Have I kept my dear elder sister waiting?”

“Only a moment before Your Highness arrived.”

Seeing him approach, Yin Ciguang snapped out of his reverie and dismissed the maids with a wave of his hand. He picked up the boiling kettle and skillfully warmed the teacups before brewing tea himself.

His movements were fluid, deliberate, and mesmerizing, each step seamless as he poured the tea. The golden liquid filled the cup to exactly seven-tenths full before he pushed it toward Yin Chengyu.

“Mother always said my tea was her favorite. Your Highness should give it a try.” He glanced at him through the swirling mist.

He picked up the teacup, inhaling the fragrant aroma before taking an unhurried sip.

“Good tea.”

The cup was small, and after finishing it, he poured himself another without hesitation. He sipped slowly, his expression calm and measured, as if waiting for Yin Ciguang to gather his thoughts and speak.

Yin Ciguang wasn’t one to call him out for tea without a reason. Whatever it was, it had to be serious. Her hesitation only proved it was something difficult to say.

The pavilion was steeped in the soothing aroma of tea as Yin Ciguang stared at the swirling tea leaves in his cup. Finally, he made up his mind. “You once asked me if I wanted my identity restored. If I were to say now that I no longer wish to be shackled by it, would Your Highness still be willing to help me?”

At the mention of “restoring identity,” his hands clenched tightly, and he didn’t dare meet Yin Chengyu’s gaze. He couldn’t tell if Yin Chengyu’s earlier offer was a passing remark or a genuine promise. Deep down, he wanted to believe it was the latter, but fear of disappointment held him back.

After all, he wasn’t just any royal child—he was the eldest son.

In the brutal game of power, “eldest son” was a phrase that bore the weight of destiny. He didn’t desire the throne. He only wished for a peaceful life with his mother, far from the turmoil of court.

But would others believe that?

Would he believe that?

Yin Ciguang’s heart tightened with sour, unspoken pain as she anxiously awaited his answer.

“I can help you,” Yin Chengyu replied, his voice steady. “But there’s risk. If things go wrong, both you and Consort Rong could face severe punishment from Father. Are you absolutely sure?”

He looked up sharply, surprise and disbelief flickering across his face. Out of all the scenarios he had imagined, he hadn’t dared to hope Yin Chengyu would agree so readily.

For a moment, he was stunned, his emotions a swirl of sorrow and relief. His voice cracked as he finally responded, “I’m sure. I don’t have another choice.”

“What happened?” His tone sharpened, catching the undercurrent in her words.

Yin Ciguang didn’t hold back, recounting the incident at the palace.

“At the time, I was drugged and not in my right mind. I can’t be certain I didn’t slip up. But when I returned, I noticed someone was watching me. My belongings had been searched—items only women would use, carefully hidden by Consort Rong, had clearly been disturbed.”

Consort Rong had always been meticulous, ensuring that even monthly sanitary supplies were placed in her quarters as a precaution. But after returning to the palace, she found the cabinet where such intimate items were stored had been tampered with. Her personal maid, Xixue, also reported that other maids had been prying, trying to gather information about him.

Yin Ciguang, ever vigilant, suspected his secret had been exposed when he recalled being dragged to the secluded hall by Mubai’er. That pair of hands shutting the door haunted his thoughts. He quietly investigated and discovered that those probing him had ties to Jingren Palace.

Noble Consort Wen wasn’t one to sit idle. Her lack of action likely meant she was still verifying the truth. But Yin Ciguang couldn’t take that chance. Better to strike first than let himself be cornered.

Yin Chengyu already knew about Mubai'er’s mysterious injury, but he hadn’t expected Yin Ciguang to be involved. His expression darkened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. “Then there’s no time to lose. If Noble Consort Wen is suspicious, she won’t stay silent for long.”

He tapped the table sharply, summoning a guard to relay a message. “Find Xue Shu and bring him here immediately. If we’re going to pull this off, we’ll need the support of the Ziyuan Taoist.”

Before the guard could leave, a figure in a crimson python-patterned robe appeared at the end of the corridor.

Xue Shu’s gaze was fixed squarely on Yin Ciguang, his tone laced with faint reproach. “Your Highness was looking for me?”

———Author's Note: Big loyal dog: My wife called me, but it’s about someone else. Crown Prince: ?