...What?

Fang Linyuan was slightly taken aback, completely unprepared for Zhao Chu’s sudden change of topic.

He didn’t react right away, lifting his head in confusion to look at Zhao Chu.

He saw Zhao Chu gazing intently at his features, and the moment their eyes met, Zhao Chu’s expression lowered with visible speed.

After a brief silence, he saw Zhao Chu drop his lashes and softly say, “...I thought about you all day.”

Like a fox caught in the rain, its once-luxurious fur now damp and clinging to its body. Its fluffy tail hung low, ears drooping—quiet and pitiful in a well-behaved way.

Fang Linyuan was, unsurprisingly, struck right in the heart.

He immediately reached out to hug Zhao Chu back, clumsily patting him on the back like he was comforting a small animal.

“I wasn’t—I...” he tried to explain. “The news from outside the manor came so suddenly, I was caught off guard. I wasn’t sure if it was true or false. That’s why I panicked a little...”

At that, he paused for a moment, then couldn’t help but ask, “Was this your doing too?”

He looked at Zhao Chu, waiting for an answer.

But Zhao Chu, after holding his gaze for a moment, pressed a hand against the back of his head and pulled him tightly into his embrace.

“You still haven’t said it,” Zhao Chu’s voice came close to his ear. “Did you miss me?”

He seemed particularly fixated on this question.

That voice was just right—coaxing, laced with a trace of the perfect amount of grievance. It made Fang Linyuan mentally curse him for being a vixen, yet he couldn’t help but soften in response.

“I missed you,” Fang Linyuan mumbled into the crook of Zhao Chu’s neck. “With the chaos outside today, I was afraid something might happen to you.”

Zhao Chu’s low voice came beside his ear, warm breath brushing his skin, followed by a light, uncontrollable kiss on the edge of his ear.

“It won’t,” Zhao Chu said.

Fang Linyuan nearly went weak at the knees again.

That one kiss made him lean further into Zhao Chu, and the smug fox wasted no time in tightening the embrace, even planting a few more kisses near his ear, as if collecting interest.

The rising tide of intimacy nearly drowned Fang Linyuan.

He hastily pushed Zhao Chu back a little, and by the time he spoke again, his breathing was already unsteady.

“Business first,” he gasped, reminding Zhao Chu.

Zhao Chu lowered his eyes and took in Fang Linyuan’s flustered state with deep attention.

He seemed pleased. A smile slowly spread through his eyes.

Then came another kiss, falling lightly on the corner of Fang Linyuan’s lips.

“All right,” Zhao Chu said.

...All right what? Still kissing!

Heat surged up around Fang Linyuan’s ears. As Zhao Chu gave a low chuckle, he hurriedly pushed him farther away.

*

When Emperor Hongyou awoke in the middle of the night, his eyes were bloodshot.

The imperial physician said it was a case of rage overwhelming his heart, causing his liver fire to flare and his eyes to become red and swollen—resulting in temporary blurred vision.

Indeed, Hongyou’s sight was blurry.

Beyond the crimson-gold bed curtains, the sculpted golden dragons looked like clawed monsters, each with bulging eyes, staring at him coldly. Surrounding him were attending eunuchs, palace maids, and consorts. He couldn’t see their faces clearly, only the glittering jewels in their hair, reflecting candlelight all around the room, making his eyes sting even more.

He sat up abruptly and swept the table beside him clean with one hand.

A loud crash of porcelain shattered the stillness, and everyone in the palace hall dropped to their knees.

“The emperor is angry. Please, Your Majesty, calm your anger!”

They begged in waves, but Hongyou’s face remained expressionless as he stood and slowly looked over each of them.

“Where is that poisonous woman?”

At last, the once-gentle and kind emperor spoke in a voice no one recognized—expressionless, eyes blood-red.

“Where is that poisonous woman?”

After a long silence, someone finally trembled and answered, “Replying to Your Majesty... Her Majesty and the ni—... the child are currently detained in the Cold Palace, awaiting Your Majesty’s judgment.”

Without a word, Hongyou Emperor slipped on his shoes, lifted the hem of his dragon robe, and walked straight past the crowd and out of the hall.

Of the dozens kneeling in the vast sleeping palace, not one dared stop him.

As he reached the threshold, he paused slightly and looked down at someone kneeling off to the side.

Saihan.

She was now more than four months pregnant, the luxurious, layered palace robe still couldn’t completely hide the slight curve of her belly.

Saihan looked up at the emperor.

And met a pair of cold, scrutinizing eyes—gazing at her belly.

As though looking at a waiting…

He looked at her as though she were a commodity waiting to be appraised, or a foe poised for combat.

Even a Turkic woman who feared no wolves shuddered slightly under such a stare.

She retreated half a step on her knees and, without thinking, shielded her belly with her hands—right in front of the child’s father.

A shadow passed through Emperor Hongyou’s eyes.

Then, he looked away, brushed past Saihan, and walked out of the bedchamber without a word.

*

No one had lived in the Cold Palace for many years.

In that ancient, long-abandoned part of the imperial compound, even the last traces of human presence had vanished.

Within the silence of the palace walls and among the bleak, withered trees, what remained was the oppressive and irresistible weight of imperial authority, standing tall beneath the heavens for a thousand years.

Emperor Hongyou didn’t like this place. A benevolent monarch wouldn’t lightly send anyone here. Since his accession to the throne, only two people had ever been confined here.

His two empresses.

The first had been appointed by his father: the prime minister’s legitimate daughter, born of noble lineage, gifted with a mind that outshone men and a courage bolder than most. She disguised her identity to secretly take the imperial exams and once acted out the story of the "female prince consort" upon the golden steps of the court.

His father admired such a woman—but he despised people like her.

He had grown up surrounded by such people.

As the only legitimate son of his father, he had been named crown prince from an early age and raised with meticulous care. The power struggles, the sibling rivalries so often found in books—he had never experienced them.

In an ordinary household, he might have been considered an intelligent and capable child. By the age of five or six, he could read and write; by eleven or twelve, he was studying the Four Books and Five Classics at the academy.

But his family was not ordinary.

The person who taught him to read had once been a nationally celebrated top scholar. His tutors were brilliant scholars from the Hanlin Academy. Talented individuals surrounded him, and even the eunuchs who served him were the cream of the crop.

Amid so many pearls and jewels, his own inadequacies only became more glaring.

His father poured endless effort into him.

Renowned scholars taught him the classics; ministers and courtiers helped him learn the art of rule. Even the path of kingship was taught to him personally by his father, step by step.

But he was prideful by nature.

He couldn’t bear it when the lofty scholars, after all his efforts, still sighed and shook their heads at him. He couldn’t stomach the crafty ministers, who toyed with power and made a mockery of him like he were a performing monkey.

Crown prince? King? These people used him to demonstrate their virtue and ambition, to proclaim their own unbending integrity. Those who schemed for power flattered him to his face but were so greedy behind his back they would hollow him out if they could.

Then there were the so-called noble families. Living in wealth for only a few decades or centuries thanks to the kindness and shelter of his ancestors, they now dared to act proud and untouchable before him.

Emperor Hongyou couldn’t help but resent every one of them.

They robbed him of sleep, tormented his thoughts day and night. They drained his spirit, yet still had the nerve to kneel and shout "long live the emperor" in feigned reverence.

Only women could offer him a sliver of comfort.

They were short-sighted. A few pieces of gold or silver could satisfy them. They accepted their captivity, taking pride in being provided for without labor.

Like caged birds in the palace, a small corner was enough for them.

They sang in their cages, groomed their brilliant plumage, occasionally pecked each other senseless for his favor or rewards—but in front of him, they worshiped like before a deity, terrified he would stop loving them.

Love?

Of course he loved.

Who wouldn’t love ease, the relief of not having to worry, or the feeling of being adored like heaven itself?

But over time, he slowly discovered that women were not simple creatures either.

After all, people are not birds. They have more thoughts, more entanglements.

They had families, fathers and brothers—some even had ambitions that could lift their relatives, or themselves, to unimaginable heights.

The women of the palace were no longer lovable. He began to prefer common girls.

They were attractive because of their clean family backgrounds and their narrow views. They had nothing to rely on, so in front of a noble and powerful man, they had no choice but to cling entirely to him—like vines wrapping themselves around a great tree.

And just at that moment, his father bestowed upon him a woman who was like a man.

Her family background outshone all others. Her stunning beauty carried an aggressiveness that made him uneasy. And when her veil was lifted, those overly calm, intelligent eyes made him feel nothing but hatred.

That hatred only deepened with time.

Every time her knowledge and intellect outmatched him, every time she handled a difficult issue with effortless skill, every time he tried to deny her only to be proven wrong by reality—his hatred grew stronger.

She was a shadow hanging over his head, suffocating him. He desperately wanted to rid himself of her.

Fortunately, everyone has weaknesses—things they are not good at.

She managed the inner palace impeccably, with meticulous rules and clear rewards and punishments. But she had no experience in the underhanded scheming that plagued the harem.

Eventually, she became the jealous wife who framed a favored concubine, while he took on the role of the kind and forgiving ruler—who, in the end, spared her life and left her in the Cold Palace to repent for her sins.

Who in the world would not praise him?

His father had taught him to be a benevolent ruler—and indeed, it was for his own good. After all, benevolence and magnanimity were powerful weapons in his hands.

Under the guise of kindness, he purged his rivals and replaced them with poor-born scholars he trusted, allowing them to swallow up the power once held by old aristocratic families. In the name of mercy, he opened the palace to commoner women—and from that wide selection, chose the empress he was most satisfied with.

Women from scholarly families had Confucian morality carved into their bones. They were cautious, modest, and treated power and fame like vipers—terrified that even a brush with them would bring shame to their families or trouble to the husband they revered like heaven itself.

Emperor Hongyou was very satisfied with her.

But...

Who could have foreseen this day?

The noble son of humble origins he had so carefully promoted had become a beast who now held all the power of the court in his grasp.

And the most gentle, obedient woman by his side—had raised a child who wasn’t even his.

The young son he had held close to his heart every day, cherished with all his love... turned out to be a bastard who should have called him “uncle”!

With a dark expression, Emperor Hongyou pushed open the doors of the Cold Palace.

A wave of freezing air surged from within, making him shiver.

The attendants who followed him from afar carried lanterns and heavy cloaks—thirty or so people in total—but not one dared to step forward and cloak him.

Hongyou strode inside.

The room, with no floor heating, was already cold to begin with. Here, lifeless and neglected, the wind poured in from all directions through cracked stone walls. Desolation reigned.

Jiang Hongluan sat upright, eyes lowered, calmly brushing the dust from her robes—the dust she had picked up when dragged across the ground.

Zhao Chu lay not far off.

The little “prince,” once bathed in luxury and adored like a star among courtiers, was now sobbing until his voice was hoarse, collapsed in the snow and too cold to stand, his face tinged blue and purple.

But Jiang Hongluan, once known for her gentle kindness, did not even glance at him.

“Your Majesty has arrived.”

Even as Emperor Hongyou stopped before her, she remained seated, composed.

His eyes bloodshot, he stared at her.

He looked at this woman beside him—whose face now seemed completely unfamiliar—for a long time before he could force out a single sentence:

“You dared to deceive me.”

Jiang Hongluan smiled.

“Yes,” she answered bluntly, lifting her gaze to him, and even asked in return: “But did Your Majesty not also want a son?”

Hongyou hadn’t expected her to be so unapologetic.

His knees buckled slightly, and he stepped back. Jiang Hongluan’s face now held nothing but unrestrained defiance.

“Your Majesty struggled to have heirs. I took the liberty of finding a solution,” she said. “And haven’t these years been joyful for you?”

Hongyou’s lips trembled; he could barely speak. “Wretched woman… you dared deceive your emperor…”

“Under Heaven’s gaze, I’m but a weak woman. I had to survive somehow,” Jiang Hongluan replied lightly, without a trace of fear.

“You’re not afraid I’ll kill you?!” he roared, his eyes nearly bulging.

She laughed.

“Of course I’m afraid,” she said. “But even the great lords of court risk losing their heads with one wrong move. If my deception has come to light today, it’s simply because I got arrogant, underestimated others, made the wrong move, and failed to have the last laugh.”

“You… you…” Hongyou’s face contorted with fury. “We’ve been married for nearly twenty years, and I never imagined a woman could be as venomous as you. You wore your mask so well, you even fooled me!”

At these words, Jiang Hongluan let out a soft sigh, her eyes lowering slightly.

“Today, Your Majesty calls us husband and wife of two decades. But to you, haven’t I always been just a servant?” She raised her eyes to him, gaze cold. “I flattered you, shaped myself into what you liked, survived under your hand, fought for influence. Isn’t that what you wanted? You wanted me to ease your mind, to manage the inner palace, to be obedient and pleasing. Didn’t I fulfill it all?”

Then, with indifference, she turned her head toward Zhao Chu. “This child… was merely my backup plan. Yes, I deceived you. But did I ever say I would act before your death?”

She smiled faintly and sighed. “If I truly had ambition, wouldn’t it have been far more satisfying to raise the young emperor and rule from behind the curtain?”

Her tone was light, her expression calm. She spoke of his death and imperial power as if she were choosing fabrics and jewelry.

“All that I’ve accomplished was within the confines of the harem. Within the limits Your Majesty allowed. Haven’t I done well enough?”

All the emperor’s rage, all his intent to confront her with every grievance, suddenly caught in his throat. He couldn’t even voice it.

This woman… beneath that skin, what a monster she was.

“Well? If deceiving your emperor can be called ‘doing well,’ then all the venomous creatures and demons of the world must be doing wonderfully too,” he snarled through clenched teeth, glaring at her.

“I truly never expected this… I thought I knew you.”

This time, Jiang Hongluan let out a real laugh. “Your Majesty knew me?” she said. “Even my father and brothers never dared claim such a thing. Why would you trouble yourself with it?”

“After all, haven’t men like you already decided what women should be? I only had to follow the script.” She sneered at him.

“You’ve committed treason!” he roared.

“Oh, so Your Majesty came here today… to bare his heart to me?” She burst into laughter.

Nearby, Zhao Chu cried out even louder, terrified.

"What are you crying for!" Jiang Hongluan suddenly shouted in fury, so loudly that even Emperor Hongyou flinched.

But Jiang Hongluan was utterly unconcerned. She glared fiercely at Zhao Chu until he didn’t even dare sob out loud anymore.

She gave a cold laugh, turned to look at Emperor Hongyou, and laughed so hard her whole body trembled. "If I hadn’t kept up the charade with you, I would’ve pulled out my hairpin long ago and stabbed it through the throats of your little bastards." she said.

"I’ve always hated children the most—noisy, filthy, unruly. Just looking at them disgusts me. But you insisted on having them crawl out of my belly, tear open my body."

Emperor Hongyou’s knees buckled; he took a step back.

"I’ll kill you," he muttered. "I’ll kill you."

But Jiang Hongluan, still laughing, locked eyes with him. "I want to kill you too," she said.

"The tip of a hairpin is sharp enough to slit your belly open. Those wailing, shrieking children, and your stinking palace full of dragging, cloying poems—every last one should be stuffed inside your gut so you can know what it feels like."

As she spoke, something else seemed to occur to her. Her eyes lit up as she looked at the emperor. "Ah, and those obstructive long fingernails, those cumbersome silk skirts, the foot-binding cloth—since you like them so much, why don’t you wear them yourself? Why force others to be stained by them?"

She laughed.

For the first time, she sat upright while Emperor Hongyou stood.

The supreme ruler of the empire now showed fear and terror on his face, backing away step by step. And the wife who had always been gentle and submissive now, for the first time, stood proud and unyielding in the cold wind.

When she’d laughed enough, at last she gave a soft, meek smile, the kind she used to wear, right as Emperor Hongyou stared at her like she was a madwoman.

"Your Majesty, see? You’ve always preferred the version of me I faked," she said.

"Just like Lord Ye who loved dragons—only from afar."

(NT: Reference from Chinese folklore. Ye Gong was said to be obsessed with dragons—he admired dragon motifs on his clothes, furniture, and decorations. However, when a real dragon actually appeared before him, he was terrified and fled. So, his “love” for dragons was only superficial and from a safe distance.)

*

The next morning, news spread through the palace.

Empress Jiang was dead.

She had died by suicide. Emperor Hongyou had stormed out of the Cold Palace in a fury, demanding that she be executed by a thousand cuts. But before any attendants could reach her, she had cut her robes and hanged herself inside.

When Zhao Chu heard the news, even he was a little surprised.

He turned his head and asked Wu Xinghai again to confirm: "Suicide?"

Wu Xinghai nodded, then added, "But His Majesty… he fell ill again after returning from the Cold Palace last night."

"What illness this time?" Zhao Chu didn’t sound very concerned.

"The palace says it’s typhoid. But Eunuch Shi’s people say…" Wu Xinghai paused a moment. "They say he was frightened into illness."

Zhao Chu burst into laughter. "Frightened?" he said. "Frightened by Jiang Hongluan?"

Beside him, Fang Linyuan gently tapped Zhao Chu’s arm and reminded him softly, "The dead should be respected."

Wu Xinghai hesitated and glanced toward Zhao Chu.

But the Fifth Prince, usually cold and vengeful, not only didn’t seem offended—he even put away his laughter and said calmly to Wu Xinghai, "Understood. You may go."

…Strange.

Wu Xinghai found Zhao Chu oddly unfamiliar, but dared not say more. He bowed and took his leave.

"I truly didn’t expect it," Zhao Chu said once the door was closed, turning to Fang Linyuan. "She should have known better than I—how much the emperor values his reputation. That princess is still alive. If she had pleaded earnestly, leveraged their years of affection, once the emperor calmed down, he would’ve spared her."

Fang Linyuan seemed to consider this. "Perhaps… she didn’t want to live like that anymore."

Zhao Chu looked at him.

"For her to do something so bold, she must’ve been ambitious," Fang Linyuan said.

"No matter the ambition, she still lived under his hand," Zhao Chu replied with a cold laugh. "Even if he died, all her schemes were just so she could live on as the mother of his heir."

"She wasn’t as brave as the former empress," Fang Linyuan said, then paused slightly.

The women of the palace had no more than a few feet of space in their lives. Compared to men, fairness had never been in their favor.

Yes, those who dared to break free were courageous. But who had the right to blame those trapped in injustice? Struggling within the rules of their world didn’t mean they lacked courage.

"Or perhaps," Fang Linyuan said softly, "she never had the power to say no—until the very end, when she finally allowed herself one moment of freedom."

"You guessed it?" Zhao Chu asked him.

"After all, to scare someone into illness… isn’t such an easy thing," Fang Linyuan replied.
"She must have hated him deeply."

"That much is true," Zhao Chu said. "She had a way out but walked to death with calm in front of the emperor. I never realized before—she had that kind of fire in her."

At this, he thought again of Emperor Hongyou and let out a cold chuckle.

"It’s a pity, though—what a shame we didn’t get to see the glorious sight of him being scared to death by his own wife."

But before he finished speaking, he quickly straightened his face, looked seriously at Fang Linyuan, and added, "I wasn’t gloating."

The cold-hearted fox prince, with his charming, sly eyes wide and innocent, said it with utter sincerity.

 

--

Author’s note:

Zhao Chu: Darling, I was born with a smiley mouth. I wasn’t laughing at my dad :D

 

 

Translator : DarNan