Chapter 68: Plum Blossoms in the Bitter Cold

It was Eunuch Yundao himself who arrived at Jade Grace Palace, gently conveying the Empress Dowager’s invitation without any hint of arrogance—on the contrary, his demeanor was courteous and humble.

The Jade Consort pondered for a long moment before deciding not to accompany Eunuch Yundao to the Hall of Kindness right away. She simply continued with her embroidery, lips parted lightly. “Eunuch, you should return and tell the Empress Dowager that Yuxiao has her own reasons for acting as she did. I hope Her Majesty can understand.”

She well knew that the Empress Dowager would be furious upon hearing this news—furious at her for acting against Qi Wanliang in secret, for concealing the true time of the King’s return to the palace. This incident might well destroy the long-standing alliance and trust between them. Yet she had to do it.

She had been cautious for too long in this palace; now, she wished to follow her own heart.

Why should Qi Wanliang be her rival? What right did she have to oppose Xuexue? She was not even worthy, yet she dared dream of the King’s favor!

So she acted, to let Qi Wanliang know her own measure.

“Your Grace, please don’t make things difficult for this humble one. The Empress Dowager was truly angered just now—do you want her to fall ill from her rage?” Yundao pressed on, for he served the Empress Dowager and was determined to complete his task.

With his persuasive tongue, he finally moved the Jade Consort. Before long, Yuxiao had dressed and ascended the palanquin. She had no need for explanations; in this harem, was there anything more inscrutable than a woman’s heart?

Besides, Qi Wanliang was a mere minor figure—there was no need for the Empress Dowager to fall out with her over such a trifle.

Snow Serenity Palace.

With the King’s arrival, the once cold and lifeless palace now brimmed with vitality, its somber splendor softened. The maids and eunuchs of Snow Serenity Palace were far more cheerful. They rarely saw the Queen, and she spent her days resting in her chambers, convalescing day after day, so the palace had grown stifling and forgotten.

Xuexue continued her “convalescence” in her bedchamber. Her illness would not magically vanish overnight; she needed more days of rest to complete the charade.

After so many days away, she sat upon her bed, taking in the familiar scent of her chamber—a faint, fresh sandalwood fragrance. Before leaving the palace, this scent had felt like a constraint to her, a narrow cage in which she was a parrot, captive and denied freedom, unable to be her true self.

But now, after a journey beyond the palace walls, whether it was her mood or her senses that had changed, she found that scent delightful, and even her spirits had lightened.

“You seem quite pleased,” came a voice behind her, as a hand encircled her waist. He leaned on his elbow, a relaxed smile upon his handsome face, his satisfaction clear as he held her close. His eyes were closed, as if he were napping, his fine features pale yet striking, long lashes casting a delicate shadow, lending him an air of refined elegance.

“Was there ever a time when I was not content?” she countered, her tone light, though the color dancing at the corners of her eyes betrayed her good mood.

“You were always detached—calm, and a little distant,” he replied, opening his eyes and recalling her former indifference.

Xuexue said nothing, only lying down beside him. She turned onto her side so they faced one another, quietly sensing the subtle rhythm of each other’s breath.

“So you prefer this kind of woman, Ziqing?” she murmured, eyes closed, a faint curve at her lips.

This was the first time she had ever directly addressed his feelings for her.

“And what do you think of my taste?” the King asked unabashedly, fixing her with a steady gaze.

She did not answer, lying still with closed eyes as if asleep. Her delicate face remained serene and indifferent, but now a subtle smile lingered, her lips curving ever so slightly.

“The plum blossoms in the courtyard have all bloomed, and yet my Xue’er remains so oblivious,” the King complained, his face a picture of exaggerated emotion.

But his mention of the plum blossoms stirred something in Xuexue. “I heard the tree in the courtyard is a winter plum; it only blossoms in the harshest cold. I hadn’t expected it to bloom so soon.”

Within the palace walls, a plum tree had quietly blossomed—pure white petals, a delicate fragrance.

She wore a robe specially made for the palace—a white dress adorned with fine, pale yellow floral patterns, like crushed flowers, imperfect and irregular, lending a touch of uniqueness. The petals scattered across her skirt looked just like the plum blossoms themselves.

The beauty stood beneath the plum tree, her pure, elegant features perfectly complemented by the flowers.

“Indeed, flowers serve only to adorn people,” he said.

“Is it to adorn you, or me?”

“In my eyes, these blossoms only set off your beauty,” Ji Wuqing replied. “And they began to bud when I was most disheartened and alone, sitting day after day in the pavilion, gazing at these familiar halls and longing for someone who was gone.” He took her hand, pressing it to his cheek, a trace of plaintive longing in his voice.

He was referring to her departure from the palace, wasn’t he?

Xuexue was momentarily startled, unprepared for such a confession, and didn’t know what to say.

At last she moved her lips. “I’m sorry, Ziqing.” She wasn’t sure why she chose those words over others. After they left her mouth, everything between them felt strangely altered.

“Sorry? I don’t want to hear that from you again,” the King said.

“Nor do I wish to say it again,” Xuexue replied.

“I won’t expect you to keep your word; just stay here in peace.”

Stay in the palace in peace? She wasn’t sure where her path led—could she so easily make promises to Ji Wuqing?

She asked herself, but found no answer.

“This harem will never be tranquil again. If even someone like Qi Wanliang can harbor such ambitions, how many more Qi Wanliangs might there be?” It sounded like a question, or perhaps a sigh, but most of all, she was changing the subject.

She steered the conversation to Qi Wanliang. Though she had long sensed that woman’s ambition, seeing her in person today still left her feeling rueful at her fate—a woman who entered with high hopes, only to face such a miserable end.

“Her? Do you think there’s anything worth saying about her?” Ji Wuqing refused to indulge her, showing not a shred of interest in the subject, as if Qi Wanliang was nothing more to him than a stranger.

“I was simply curious—how did you know in advance of Qi Wanliang’s plans and manage to send me to Snow Serenity Palace ahead of her?” she asked, appearing quite earnest, as if the matter warranted serious discussion.

“Someone deliberately let word slip, made a mistake. Even if I hadn’t wished to know, I would have been forced to,” Ji Wuqing replied, his tone rather prickly, as if a little put out by Xuexue.

Hearing him, Xuexue chuckled softly. “So that’s it. It seems the true aim behind all this was to deal with Qi Wanliang—she fell victim to her own cleverness.”

Ji Wuqing said nothing, nor did Xuexue mind. Hands behind her back, she strolled slowly through the courtyard, lost in thought.

“Even if you won’t say, I already know. Yu Zhi told me that Qi Wanliang has been especially close to the Hall of Kindness lately—the two sides have been in constant contact.” It must have been at the Empress Dowager’s behest.

Only, something didn’t quite add up. The Empress Dowager had no reason to target Qi Wanliang; on the contrary, Qi Wanliang was someone she could use.

She frowned, thinking hard, until at last a name came to her.

“It was the Jade Consort, wasn’t it?” If she was involved, everything made sense.

Yet, she waited in vain for the King’s reply. Still, she was unconcerned, and soon, engrossed in her thoughts, she forgot all about him.

“Xue’er, you are far too unruly,” the King finally complained.

He stood beneath the plum tree, his elegant bearing one of supreme indifference, but in his deep eyes, the image of the young woman was ever-present, as if she had taken up residence there, become indispensable.

Xuexue tilted her head at his complaint.

“And that is just as it should be,” she replied ambiguously, her pale, pure face as white as snow, now veiled with inscrutable depths.

A faint, gentle smile graced her lips, like the first sign of spring’s thaw.

She did not know what stage her relationship with Ji Wuqing had reached. By title, they were husband and wife, Emperor and Empress. Yet in their interactions, there was both awkwardness and a tranquil, easy acceptance.

At times, she secretly wondered: just what were her feelings toward Ji Wuqing?

“Come here. It’s cold outside—you don’t want to make yourself ill again,” he called, stretching out and beckoning to her.

“It is winter, Ziqing. Of course it’s cold,” she replied, naturally accepting his care.

It had become a habit—his kindness toward her, her acceptance of it.

Perhaps it was not fair.