Wearing red robes, the Crown Prince mourns.
With the wet nurse absent, Zhiwei could only gently pat and stroke the tiny infant.
The princess was still crying, and the child's wailing sounded particularly jarring in the silent mourning hall. Jiang Qin, who was ordered to escort the body to the imperial mausoleum, was now standing in the funeral procession, looking at the infant in swaddling clothes with pity.
With a sigh, Jiang Qin turned his gaze to the woman in the coffin. He had heard that she was not even thirty years old. Who could have imagined that the end of such a favored concubine would be so hasty?
Life is so fragile.
Jiang Qin lowered his head and remained silent. When it came to sealing the coffin, he followed the custom and went forward to circle the deceased one last time. Consort Ling's face was made up, her cheeks were rosy, and only the corners of her lips were faintly white, which even the lip gloss could not cover.
No, that extremely unusual, faint dark color was not the usual grayish-white of the dead, but rather... a stagnant purplish hue.
Jiang Qin's heart skipped a beat, and a strange doubt quietly arose within him.
The funeral procession proceeded in a grand and solemn manner towards the imperial mausoleum. The mournful music was mournful, and paper money filled the air.
Halfway there, Jiang Qin finally tightened the reins, stepped out from the crowd, raised his hand, and said in a deep voice, "Wait!"
The line slowly came to a stop. All eyes were on him.
Jiang Tan ordered the procession to rest on the spot and then had his servants bring some melons and fruits. The funeral procession consisted of rough men who rarely received rewards, so someone immediately stepped forward to accept them with a smile.
During the break, Jiang Qin opened Consort Ling's coffin and wiped her lips, revealing a dark mark.
Jiang Tan lightly touched the needle with a silver needle, and in a short while, the silver needle turned as black as ink.
——
After Consort Ling's death, Zhu Liji locked himself in the Hall of Mental Cultivation for half a month, avoiding the inner palace, but he never missed a single morning court session.
He reviewed memorials even faster than before, as if he wanted to drain all his energy from those tedious official duties, leaving no room for himself to wallow in sorrow.
Zhiwei watched coldly, guessing that he was probably using this method to numb himself. Too lazy to say anything more, she just raised her eyebrows and teased the baby in the cradle.
From birth, the little princess was showered with extraordinary favor. Not only was she personally raised in the Hall of Mental Cultivation by Zhu Liji, but her title was also derived from the name of the country, and she was named "Zhaoyang".
Now the little princess is almost a month old. The red wrinkles from her birth have faded, and she is now chubby and fair-skinned. Her dark, grape-like eyes are bright and lively, making her very adorable.
Zhiwei tried different ways to interact with the doll. Strangely enough, Zhu Liji didn't allow others to have too much contact with the child, but he allowed Zhiwei to approach and tease it.
The biggest advantage of doing this was that it eliminated the need to force Zhiwei to take those drowsy drugs. Her eyes gradually cleared, and her movements returned to their former agility.
It's a good thing to some extent.
Looking at the little princess's chubby, white skin and her arms like lotus roots, Zhiwei couldn't help but reach out and gently poke her small, fair chin. Strangely enough, whenever Zhiwei did this, it was as if some hidden switch had been turned on for the little princess. Even if she was crying one second, she would burst into laughter the next.
Seeing this, the wet nurse standing nearby couldn't help but exclaim, "This is a blessing from heaven."
That day, after Zhu Liji finished reviewing the memorials, he walked into the side hall, rubbing his temples, and saw Zhiwei teasing the child again.
Without making any other moves, Zhiwei simply sat on the edge of the couch covered with a soft blanket, gently rocking the exquisite sandalwood cradle and humming a lullaby softly.
The baby was babbling and waving its little hands in the cradle.
It actually made one feel somewhat satisfied.
Zhu Liji walked over quietly, picked up a rattle drum with a small silver bell hanging next to the cradle, and shook it gently.
The crisp sound of the bell attracted the child's attention, and the little princess immediately turned her head, grinned at him with her toothless mouth.
Zhu Liji's lips involuntarily curved into a very faint smile. He bent down and continued to tease the child with the rattle drum. Zhiwei handed him a soft gauze handkerchief at the right moment so he could wipe the drool from the corner of the child's mouth.
The two people, one sitting and one standing, surrounded a small baby, their movements perfectly synchronized and natural.
From a distance, they looked just like an ordinary, affectionate couple enjoying their leisure time.
Outside the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Jiang Qin stood quietly at the threshold, taking in the "warm" scene inside.
His face was expressionless, but his hands, hanging by his sides, clenched quietly until his knuckles turned white. After a long while, he slowly relaxed them. Deep in his eyes, a mix of emotions surged—doubt, worry, and a trace of unspeakable regret.
He had inquired and learned that before giving birth, Consort Ling had only taken a life-sustaining pill in addition to a nourishing soup. Upon examination, the soup was found to be non-toxic, the pill to be highly nourishing, yet traces of poison remained on Consort Ling's lips and teeth. Moreover, the pill had been personally fed to her by Zhiwei. All of this felt like thorns piercing Jiang Qin's heart.
All the suspicions pointed to the seemingly harmless woman in the palace—Yan Zhiwei.
He was almost certain that Consort Ling's death was not a simple case of postpartum hemorrhage. He should go in immediately, report everything he had found to His Majesty, and tear away the facade of peace.
This was his duty as a subject, and he had no choice but to do it.
Jiang Qin took a deep breath and finally made up his mind. He straightened his clothes and walked towards Ping Hai, who was guarding outside the hall.
"Eunuch Pinghai, please inform His Majesty that I have important business to discuss with him."
Seeing his solemn expression, Pinghai dared not be negligent and replied "Yes," about to turn around and go inside to report.
"Wait!" Jiang Qin suddenly called out to him again.
Pinghai turned around in confusion.
Jiang Qin turned his gaze back to the hall.
Zhu Liji took the child from Zhiwei's hands, his movements slightly clumsy but with a rare patience.
In three days, it will be the day of the Crown Prince's wedding. The preparations inside and outside the palace have been going on for a long time. If the news is revealed now, it will surely cause a huge uproar, and the Crown Prince's wedding will probably not go smoothly.
On this day of universal celebration, it is not appropriate for him to trouble the emperor with trivial matters; let's wait until after the wedding.
A fierce struggle flashed in his eyes, and finally, as if he had convinced himself, or as if he wanted to give this false peace a little more time, Jiang Qin slowly loosened his clenched fist.
"Enough," Jiang Qin nodded slightly. "This matter is not urgent, and there is no need to disturb His Majesty's family time."
He waved to Pinghai, turned around, and left with heavy steps.
Inside the hall, Zhiwei was coaxing the child. Jiang Qin's hesitation and departure were clearly seen by her.
The hand holding the child paused slightly, then resumed its rhythmic patting. The child in her arms suddenly smiled, grabbing Zhiwei's collar with its little hand. Zhiwei lowered her head, gently patted her back, and smiled back.
The cradle rocked gently, bathed in candlelight, a scene of tranquility.
——
The Crown Prince's wedding was a grand event for the entire country. The procession stretched from the palace gates to Zhuque Avenue, with drums and music filling the air and the clamor of the crowd almost lifting the dome of the imperial city.
On either side of the jade steps stood a solemn entourage, with guards in gleaming armor standing like javelins. Officials were dressed in brand-new court robes, and noblewomen were adorned with jewels and ornaments.
According to the ancestral system of the Great Zhao Dynasty, the emperor was required to hold a banquet in the palace at noon after the investiture ceremony to receive the congratulations of the imperial family, relatives, and civil and military officials. At this time, Zhu Liji, dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe, sat in the highest seat, receiving blessings from all directions.
However, even more eye-catching than the main characters of the wedding was the little princess Zhaoyang, who was only a month old. Strictly speaking, it was Zhiwei, who was holding the princess, sitting in the seat that Zhu Liji had specially added.
The little princess was dressed in a red swaddling clothes embroidered with gold, exuding extraordinary wealth. Zhiwei was also dressed in red clothes, which were not embroidered with any patterns, but her natural beauty meant that with just a little dressing up, she could attract countless admiring glances.
The banquet began, with toasts exchanged and graceful singing and dancing taking place.
Seeing that Zhu Liji had finished his wine and handed the child to the wet nurse beside him, Zhiwei instinctively wanted to get up and serve him with the wine, but her wrist was gently grasped by a warm, large hand under the table.
“Sit down,” Zhu Liji said, glancing at the dancing girls in the hall and gently stroking Zhiwei’s wrist. “Today is a family banquet, and I have said that there is no need to be formal with those formalities.”
It means to reassure Zhiwei to sit comfortably beside him.
Zhiwei lowered her eyes and sat quietly as instructed. The little princess, wrapped up like a lucky doll, was not shy at all. Her dark eyes darted around curiously, and she blew out a small bubble.
Zhu Liji looked down and saw this scene. His expression softened even more. He reached out his fingertip and gently rubbed his daughter's delicate cheek, his tone unusually light and teasing.
"Hmm? It seems that our Zhaoyang also thinks that what Father Emperor said makes sense."
The little princess giggled and waved her tiny hands, as if responding to her father's words. Seeing this, all the officials in the hall smiled and echoed her, remaining silent as they held Zhaoyang even tighter in their arms.
As evening approached and the auspicious hour arrived, the Crown Prince was to personally proceed to the future Crown Princess's residence to perform the wedding ceremony. The boisterous banquet came to a temporary halt, and the guests moved elsewhere to wait.
Inside the side hall, Zhaoyang, who had been playing all afternoon, finally grew tired. She yawned in Zhiwei's arms, her long eyelashes drooping, and she was about to drift off to sleep.
Zhiwei carried the little princess to the quieter inner hall, where she stayed until the child fell asleep. After covering the child with a brocade quilt, Zhiwei prepared to leave.
Unexpectedly, as soon as he turned around, he bumped into Zhu Sheng, who was dressed in a bright red wedding robe.
Zhu Sheng stood tall outside the door, his striking red attire making his handsome face appear even more refined and extraordinary. In stark contrast to his festive appearance were his eyes—bloodshot and with an unnatural red tinge around them, as if he had been up all night or had just been crying.
His deep gaze fell silently on Zhiwei's face, as if he had a thousand words to say, but he only softly called out, "Aunt."
"Oh, Your Highness," Zhiwei stepped forward, responding as always. She could roughly guess the reason for Zhu Sheng's bad mood, and it was precisely because she was not from this world that she could better empathize with the frustration of being unjustly betrothed to someone she barely knew.
But what can be done? This is the emperor's fate. Not to mention the crown prince, who in the whole world dares to disobey?
Her throat rose and fell, and in the end, Zhiwei simply raised her hand to smooth the slightly wrinkled gold thread on Zhu Sheng's cuff.
“Today is your joyous day,” Zhiwei said gently and skillfully. “If the late Empress were to see this, she would be very happy.”
Like an ordinary elder, Zhiwei carefully advised, "Once you're married, you're a real adult, someone's husband, and in the future, a father to their children. From now on, you must act more steadily and thoughtfully, and not be as impulsive as before."
From the slightly wrinkled hem to the slightly disheveled collar, Zhu Sheng remained motionless as she straightened it, just like countless times when he was a child.
Only at the very end, as Zhiwei withdrew, he grabbed her wrist. The plan to force her to abdicate, the tension of an arrow on a bowstring, almost burst forth from the dam of reason—
No, no! What if it fails... He dared not let Zhiwei get involved.
"Your Highness?" Zhiwei asked, puzzled, as she tried to pull her hand away. Zhu Sheng's strength gradually decreased, and Zhiwei was able to get her hand away quickly.
This was the last time they would see each other. Zhiwei's eyes were also filled with unspoken words. She watched Zhu Sheng turn around, and his brightly colored wedding dress quickly disappeared at the end of the corridor.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
