Cining Pace.

  The young eunuch kneeling on the floor trembled as he finished repeating what he had overheard on the avenue.

  “…That’s exactly what Qiu Daying said. This servant dares not alter a single word.”

  Empress Dowager Wen sat propped on her couch, her face tinged with illness. After coughing twice, she turned toward Pei Yan, who hadn’t even changed out of his morning court attire, and gave a bitter smile.

  “Yan’er, will you allow your favored consort to humiliate me like this?”

  Pei Yan smiled faintly. “Mother, you jest. Qiu Daying only just entered the pace. How could she be considered a ‘favored consort’ of mine?”

  “You know very well who she relies on,” the Empress Dowager snapped, unable to suppress her growing irritation.

  Pei Yan took the medicine bowl from Wei Momo nearby, lowered his eyes, and stirred it slowly with a jade spoon. His tone was mild, almost genuinely curious.

  “Oh? And who might that be?”

  The Empress Dowager saw that she could no longer speak in riddles and had to answer bluntly through clenched teeth: “Jiang Fei, of course!”

  Pei Yan smiled again.

  Still not looking up, his voice was gentle as ever. “Jiang Fei is very well-behaved, and she doesn’t even know Qiu Daying. Mother, if you think carefully… does this matter truly have anything to do with her?”

  Empress Dowager Wen could no longer contain herself. Her face grew angry as she snapped, “How could it not? That Qiu woman is just a Daying. She wouldn’t dare offend me unless someone put her up to it! It’s clearly Jiang Guiren’s doing! And behind Jiang Guiren, who stands there, if not Jiang Fei? Do you really need me to spell it out?”

  Pei Yan’s smile faded slightly. He raised his long eyes and asked in a tone ced with meaning, “Then by that logic, is Jiang Fei backed by me?”

  The Empress Dowager was momentarily stunned.

  She looked at her adoptive son—graceful and refined, like a jade gentleman—and for some reason, a trace of unease crept into her heart.

  Could it really be… that he was the one behind all this?

  She suddenly recalled how, when her biological son Chen'er was alive, she had shown clear favoritism—going so far as to ignore Pei Yan entirely.

  But that was human nature, wasn’t it? Who could truly treat an adopted son the same as their own flesh and blood?

  After Chen’er’s untimely death, she was left with only Pei Yan… so she had done her best to treat him like her own…

  “Yan’er, you… you…”

  Her voice faltered. She looked at him, and for the first time, there was a flicker of caution in her eyes—one even she didn’t realize was there.

  Pei Yan’s smile returned. He signaled for a stool to be brought, then sat beside her bed and personally scooped a spoonful of medicine, bringing it to her lips.

  “It’s time for your medicine, Mother.”

  The medicine had been brewed in her own pace and should’ve been perfectly safe—but in this moment, with Pei Yan feeding her personally, the Empress Dowager couldn’t help but imagine poison in the bowl.

  She leaned back slightly and stammered, “I… I don’t want to take medicine right now…”

  Pei Yan frowned, and the look in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. But in the end, he simply withdrew his hand and passed the bowl back to the servant, letting out a soft sigh.

  “Then don’t take it for now. Mother knows—her son has always been the most filial.”

  The Empress Dowager’s mouth twitched.

  “As for Qiu Daying…” Pei Yan stood up, his tone suddenly sharper. “She dared to offend Mother—that’s unacceptable for any consort. I’ll have her publicly punished in front of the Six Paces tomorrow. Twenty strokes of the rod. Then she’ll be thrown into the Cold Pace. Will that vent Mother’s anger?”

  The Empress Dowager blinked in shock.

  That punishment was harsh—very harsh.

  Being sent to the Cold Pace meant one could still live, but twenty strokes beforehand? With no medical care? The wounds would fester, and death was almost certain.

  At that moment, the Empress Dowager realized she had been overthinking. Her Yan’er truly was devoted and filial.

  She smiled. “Good, good, Mother feels much better now. Oh—and one more thing. Yao’er is the youngest of my nieces. Now that she’s entered the pace, you should treat her well. In fact, tonight you could—”

  Before she could finish, Chief Steward Cheng walked in and bowed.

  “Your Majesty, a message from Zhaoyang Pace. Her Highness Jiang Fei isn’t feeling well and requests Your Majesty come to visit.”

  The Empress Dowager’s face darkened instantly. “Unwell? Yan’er is the Emperor, not a physician! Going to her won’t cure anything!”

  Pei Yan was silent for a moment, his expression darkening slightly.

  “Perhaps she’s truly very ill. I noticed she looked pale st night. I’ll feel better if I see her myself.”

  He bowed.

  “Please take care, Mother. I’ll visit again another day.”

  Empress Dowager Wen watched Pei Yan walk away without hesitation, so furious she pounded the bed and snapped at her attendants:“That Jiang Shuyi is clearly faking illness just like I used to! Why can’t Yan’er see it?!”

  _____

  In Zhaoyang Pace, the moment Pei Yan stepped into the bedchamber, a bitter herbal scent greeted him.

  Behind the screen, it was silent. Yuzhu stepped out with an empty medicine bowl. Upon seeing him, she immediately knelt.

  “Your Majesty.”

  Pei Yan cast a gnce at the bowl and asked, “What medicine was it?”

  Yuzhu’s expression was full of worry.

  “A calming tonic. Since returning from Kunning Pace, Her Highness has had chest tightness, shortness of breath, and restless thoughts. She wept and said she wished to see Your Majesty. This servant sent word to Qianqing Pace, but heard that Your Majesty was attending to the Empress Dowager, so we gave Her Highness the medicine to settle her nerves. She just fell asleep.”

  Pei Yan said nothing and walked around the screen, lifting the beaded curtain to enter the inner chamber.

  There on the bed, with the gauze canopy half-draped, y the woman—hair loose and falling like ink, her body curled up, turned toward him in sleep. A light silk bnket covered her, revealing one delicate, exposed shoulder.

  Her snowy pale cheeks still bore the trace of tears, her refined features faintly furrowed. One hand drooped over the edge of the bed, weakly reaching for something unseen—she looked like a fragile, lost mb.

  Pei Yan stood there for a few breaths before walking over quietly.

  “Y-Your Majesty…”

  She stirred and called out softly, shes fluttering slightly.

  It was as if she sensed his presence, but couldn't wake on her own.

  Pei Yan hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and murmured in her ear, “I’m here. Wake up, or I’ll leave.”

  Half-asleep, Jiang Shuyi recognized his familiar scent, but the medicine made her drowsy—so drowsy she could’ve fallen back into sleep in an instant.

  Then she heard him threaten to leave.

  Her heart, already full of grievance, burned with injustice. He had once told her, after confining her to Zhaoyang Pace, that he would stay by her side for the rest of his life!

  Fueled by indignation, she forced herself out of the haze and opened her eyes wide.

  The first thing she saw was Pei Yan’s handsome face.

  There seemed to be the hint of a smile in his gaze, though it faded quickly. His expression softened as he asked, “Why did you wake up?”

  Jiang Shuyi stared at him for a few heartbeats, then suddenly reached out and grabbed the sleeve embroidered with golden dragons.

  “I thought I heard Your Majesty say you were going to leave,” she said accusingly, tone firm and full of compint.

  Pei Yan looked down at his now-wrinkled sleeve in her grasp, a flicker of oddity fshing across his mind.

  Jiang Shuyi was sometimes willful with him, but she usually understood proper decorum.

  Right now, she should’ve greeted him respectfully—instead of grabbing his sleeve like this.

  While he was still wondering, Jiang Shuyi had already sat up on her knees and threw her arms tightly around his waist, pressing her face against his chest. Her voice turned soft and trembled: “Don’t go. I only have Your Majesty now. If even you no longer want me… then just give me death.”

  Only him.

  Pei Yan hesitated for a long time, unsure whether to scold her for her boldness. But in the end, he let it slide—because of those words.

  She must’ve been wronged in Kunning Pace and lost control of her emotions for a moment.

  He reached out and gently stroked the top of her head, his voice warm as he soothed, “When have I ever said I didn’t want you? Besides, you still have Pei Yu, and your younger sister. Don’t say such despairing things.”

  It would’ve been better not to mention them.

  The moment he did, Jiang Shuyi felt even worse and clung to him tighter.

  She knew she shouldn’t act so emotionally—shouldn’t raise suspicion or risk falling from favor.

  But she couldn’t help it.

  In her past life, she still had a sister and a son. So even when Pei Yan didn’t love her as much, she could endure it. But in this life, Jiang Shuyi knew: her sister had a wolf’s heart, and her son would one day stab her in the back.

  Other than Pei Yan, she had no one.

  Her voice caught in her throat as she whispered, “I don’t want Pei Yu anymore. I don’t want my sister either. Your Majesty… just love me more in the future, alright?”

  And with that, her body trembled, and she broke down in sobs.