Chapter 121: A Letter Home

In the imperial harem, the matter concerning Consort Yu had become quite a scandal, especially since even the Empress Dowager had involved herself. However, how could the Empress Dowager truly influence her, even by the slightest degree?

“Your Highness, a letter from His Majesty has arrived,” Miao Jian said as he entered with measured steps, presenting a slender letter with both hands. The cover was a striking red with gold trim, exquisitely beautiful.

“A letter?” Xuexue paused in surprise. Only upon receiving the letter did she regain her composure.

“It is likely a message of safe arrival,” Miao Jian replied before quietly withdrawing from the palace chamber.

Xuexue sat by the window, clutching the envelope, her hand motionless for a long while. Though he had only been gone two days, it felt like an eternity to her. Receiving his letter now brought an indescribable weight upon her heart.

Her eyes captured the faint surprise on her face as Lingyin stood beneath the plum tree outside. Clad in a cool-toned, thin garment, he did not seem to feel the chill. He remained beneath the plum blossoms within her sight, his gaze calm and devoid of any other emotion.

“Lingyin,” Xuexue rose and softly called his name, leaning against the window frame.

“Master, what are your orders?” Lingyin remained standing, head bowed slightly, his jade-colored face utterly devoid of blood.

“Is life in this palace so different from your previous wanderings and travels?” Though Lingyin was born of the Tao people, he possessed human thoughts and emotions, albeit imperfect and not quite a complete human.

“Naturally, it is different. Before, I was alone; now, I have a master,” Lingyin answered. His tone was flat and emotionless, yet a subtle difference slipped through.

“It seems I overlooked that even you can feel loneliness,” Xuexue nodded. Though she had not spent long with Lingyin, a special bond had formed, for after all, Lingyin was her own creation. If he experienced the loneliness of being human, then it was she who ought to take responsibility for it.

A soft whimper drew her attention as a small fiery-red raccoon nuzzled her ankle, its warm fur brushing against her skirt, seeking her notice.

“Mother, I’m here!” Outside, Xiaoxi cheerfully ran in, calling out joyfully, “Mother!” She wore a sugar-apple-colored little jacket, her plump figure bundled up, with two buns atop her head adorned with pink ribbons fluttering like butterflies chasing the wind.

As she ran, Xiaoxi’s steps faltered when she spotted Lingyin beneath the window. Surprised, she turned and trotted over to him, looking at him with curiosity.

“You look so familiar,” she said, standing before Lingyin with her small eyes scrutinizing his face. After a moment, she concluded, “Maybe it’s because this uncle is handsome that you seem familiar.”

Lingyin glanced at her but said nothing. His cool, impassive eyes revealed no hint of emotion.

“Mother, this uncle is strange. He doesn’t speak at all,” Xiaoxi felt a bit deflated and ran to the window seeking comfort from Xuexue.

“Well, what if I told you not to speak for a whole day? Would you be happy about that?” Xuexue said gently, still holding the letter, not yet eager to open it.

“Why? I didn’t do anything wrong. Why can’t I speak?” Xiaoxi frowned, puzzled.

“Exactly. If others don’t wish to speak, does that make them strange?”

Hearing this, Xiaoxi suddenly understood and touched her head, laughing sheepishly. “Then I won’t say he’s strange anymore. Since uncle doesn’t like to talk, I won’t talk to him either. No, I can talk to you, but you can ignore me.”

She stood before Lingyin once more, speaking seriously, her face full of reason.

Lingyin looked at her and seemed to nod.

Satisfied, Xiaoxi went off to Xuexue’s room, muttering as she walked, “Mother, where is Uncle Miao Jian? He hasn’t played with me lately. I feel like something’s missing.”

“If you’re missing something, then practice your writing,” Xuexue suggested, settling by the window, the little raccoon curled on her lap.

“…I guess that’s not so bad,” Xiaoxi made a mischievous face, as if resigned.

Climbing onto a chair, she took up the brush, glancing at Xuexue’s relaxed demeanor. She bit the brush and then bent down to practice. Though reluctant, she was earnest in her effort, leaning over the table in concentration.

Xuexue finally broke open the letter. The paper was brief, with scarcely more than a dozen words:

“My beloved Xue’er, your husband is well and misses you deeply. Do not forget me—not truly forget, but keep me ever in your thoughts.”

Keep her ever in his thoughts?

This man was indeed… domineering.

Reading the letter repeatedly, a gentle smile curved her lips, and an unexpected warmth filled her heart. Though brief, the letter contained much meaning, calming her spirit.

Yes, though separated by mountains and seas, they could correspond through letters—a kind of solace, wasn't it?

With this thought, Xuexue moved to her writing desk, sat opposite Xiaoxi, and picked up the brush, intending to write something. Yet, as soon as she lifted the brush, she hesitated—words of tenderness felt insincere, and mentioning palace affairs might distract him.

“Mother, will you practice writing with me?” Xiaoxi asked, noticing her hesitation, her small face curious.

“Do you find writing boring?” Xuexue put down the brush and asked gently. “How about I give you a topic, and you write a little essay about it?”

“Would that be more interesting than writing characters?” The little girl’s eyes sparkled with eagerness.

“Let’s try. The topic is ‘My Recent Life.’ Write about what you’ve seen, heard, thought, and felt lately,” Xuexue proposed.

“Can I write about what Mother looks like lately?” Xiaoxi pondered, a playful idea forming on her face.

“I’m curious to see how you portray me,” Xuexue smiled encouragingly.

“All right, I’ll start writing now,” Xiaoxi said confidently, sitting upright.

Outside, beneath the plum tree, Lingyin stood still, watching the two inside—the tall and the small. A fleeting softness and gentle stir crossed his face, but it disappeared too quickly to discern clearly.

Meanwhile, in the main tent of the Ji Kingdom’s royal palace, Ji Wuqing sat surrounded by stacks of documents, dressed in a dark robe. His jade-hued fingers held the letter, a faint, tender smile playing on his handsome lips.

Like snow on a winter’s day, easily scattered by the wind.

However, the writing was more akin to childish scribbles—though neat enough to read, the arrangement was somewhat disorderly.

This was no letter from a wife, but a perfunctory note from Xue’er.

He pursed his lips, feeling somewhat aggrieved. Yet as he read the phrases strung together, his smile returned. Despite the rambling tone, the message was clear enough:

“The little old man has finally left; Mother is mine alone now. But there’s a problem: she’s happy, but Mother is not. Uncle Miao Jian says it’s like how Xiaoxi feels when she cannot see Mother. Now, Mother is unhappy because she cannot see the little old man. But Xiaoxi doesn’t want to be happy alone, so Uncle Miao Jian should come back soon, then Mother will be very happy.”

“Not at all like Xue’er, such a clever little imp,” Ji Wuqing murmured, quite satisfied nonetheless.

Xue’er was thinking of him, just as he thought of her.

Ji Kingdom, royal palace.

When Xuexue learned that Miao Jian had delivered Xiaoxi’s essay to Ji Wuqing, she found herself at a loss for words to describe her feelings.

“I saw only His Highness’s letter on the desk and thought it was meant for His Majesty,” Miao Jian remarked lightly.

“That’s all right,” Xuexue shook her head. She did not yet know what to write to him, so this was fine.

Still, she suddenly felt an odd embarrassment.

She could imagine the expression Ji Wuqing would wear upon reading the essay, and just thinking about it made her feel awkward...

“Your Highness, there is a matter I believe must be resolved promptly,” Miao Jian said behind Xuexue, his expression turning serious.

“You mean the matter of Consort Yu, don’t you?” Xuexue nodded. Indeed, that issue required swift resolution, lest unforeseen troubles arise.

“Exactly,” Miao Jian agreed. Anyone wishing harm upon the Queen must be swiftly eliminated—that was the task entrusted to him by His Majesty.

“The matter of Consort Yu cannot be delayed any longer; no matter what, she cannot escape death,” Xuexue said firmly. She was no saint and could not tolerate Consort Yu’s treacherous heart. “Proceed according to the palace rules. Follow the rites and send her on her way.”

The palace prison.

Damp and cold, it starkly contrasted the palace’s lavish splendor.

Consort Yu was confined in the prison designated for offending consorts. It was a somewhat better situation—at least she had a mat to keep warm, not forced to sleep on a pile of straw.

When Miao Jian arrived, Consort Yu sat upright on a chair, dressed in apricot-colored palace attire, her hair perfectly neat. She looked more composed than one might expect of someone imprisoned, instead appearing calm and serene, as if awaiting her return home.

“So it’s you, Eunuch Miao Jian,” she smiled upon his arrival, the gentle elegance of the former Consort Yu still evident.

“Your Highness should have prepared yourself,” he said. His presence was undoubtedly the king’s will.

“Indeed, Eunuch, are you here to escort me on my journey?”