Chapter 12

That child should have been born the year she drowned, but due to the death of her younger sister Pei Wei, her sorrow led to a miscarriage with bleeding.

Several years after the death of Chen’er, her elder brother died in battle, and the Pei family fell into ruin. Suddenly pregnant again, Pei Yun was both surprised and hopeful, as if a stroke of color had been added to a dull, colorless painting. She had even decided how she would cherish the child once born, hoping to ease the guilt and regret she felt for Chen’er.

While carrying the child, she had wished for a daughter, imagining how lovely and delicate she would be, resting in her arms and softly calling her “Mother.”

As she wished, it was indeed a girl.

The nearly six-month-old fetus had taken shape, but at birth it was lifeless. The crown prince ordered it taken away and buried; Pei Yun never once saw the child.

Thus, that final, faint glimmer of hope vanished completely, just as her sister had.

This was likely one of the reasons she had no will to live when she drowned in her past life.

Shuyan saw her mistress staring at the little princess’s back for a long time and couldn’t help but tease, “The little princess is truly adorable. If Your Highness likes daughters, you can have another in a couple of years.”

Hearing this, Shumo shot Shuyan a sharp glance. “Your Highness nearly lost your life last time giving birth. It hasn’t been long, and you wish for more suffering?”

Shuyan immediately fell silent, then meekly said, “I didn’t mean it like that…”

Pei Yun listened quietly to their banter behind her, unable to suppress a faint smile as she reached up to wipe away the saliva at Chen’er’s mouth.

She did long for the child she had miscarried, but she knew all too well that a woman’s life was full of suffering, even in the royal family—it was perhaps better not to come into this world at all.

Moreover, in this life, that child was unlikely to be born.

The Noble Consort and the Pure Consort, along with several other concubines, had already arrived at Chengqian Palace. Pei Yun, holding the child, stepped forward to pay her respects, then was led by palace attendants to sit aside.

She looked around but did not see Consort Zhen or Princess Haoyue, Li Shurui.

Li Shurui was still under house arrest. After the emperor had learned of the Baizui Banquet incident, he was furious and no longer defended his cherished daughter. Instead, he extended her punishment by an additional month and had harshly reprimanded Consort Zhen.

Consort Zhen did not attend, likely too ashamed to show her face.

While observing the scene, Pei Yun saw a graceful figure slowly approaching.

“Third Sister-in-law.”

Pei Yun smiled and nodded, somewhat surprised that the Second Princess would take the initiative today.

Li Shutang nervously clenched her hand hidden in her sleeve. After hesitating, she carefully asked, “Third Sister-in-law, may I hold Chen’er?”

Seeing her anxious expression, Pei Yun smiled and replied without hesitation, “Of course.”

She gestured for her to sit beside her and gently transferred Chen’er into her arms.

Li Shutang stiffened. It was her first time holding such a big child, and she was initially nervous. But when Chen’er neither cried nor fussed, instead clutching her clothes and nestling quietly in her arms, Li Shutang relaxed and smiled.

“Looks like Chen’er really likes Second Aunt. After all, the outfit he’s wearing today is the Hundred-Families garment you personally sewed for him.”

Seeing Li Shutang’s disbelief, Pei Yun deliberately showed her the collar, revealing the familiar garment.

Li Shutang hadn’t expected Pei Yun to have actually dressed the child in it.

She had given the gift after learning of the garment’s symbolism. It was time-consuming and laborious to make. At first, her mother and several close maids advised her that even if she made it, the Eastern Palace might not appreciate it. Still, she persisted, shamelessly asking various palaces for scraps of fabric.

She did it mainly because among her brothers, her third brother was especially kind to her and treated her and the princess fairly.

She vowed not to forget that.

Fortunately, her efforts were not in vain. Li Shutang’s eyes reddened slightly. “Thank you, Third Sister-in-law, for not despising it…”

“You’re such a skilled needleworker, I’d like to learn from you. When you have time, Second Princess, why don’t you come to the Eastern Palace and teach me a thing or two?”

After speaking, Pei Yun saw Li Shutang’s eyes widen in surprise. After a moment, she came back to herself, nodding excitedly with a slight tremor in her voice, “Yes, yes… I wouldn’t dare teach, but I’d be happy to accompany Third Sister-in-law in sewing.”

Watching the Second Princess’s joyful expression, Pei Yun’s thoughts were complicated. She suddenly felt how foolish she had been before—enduring humiliation silently, flattering those who mistreated her.

She hadn’t realized she should cherish those who treated her sincerely.

As she chatted with her sister-in-law, a messenger announced the emperor’s arrival. Everyone stood and bowed.

“Your Majesty.”

“All rise,” came the emperor’s voice.

Pei Yun looked up to see a man in his sixties donning imperial robes, striding in with an imposing presence. Though aged, his handsome features remained, and beneath his smile was an air that commanded respect.

This was her emperor father, Emperor Qingzhen, Li Huan.

The emperor was handsome, and his children had inherited his good looks. Perhaps once a military general before ascending the throne, he appeared robust and dignified.

Behind him followed the crown prince, several princes, and royal sons. They intended to take their seats, but the emperor suddenly stopped and looked toward Pei Yun’s side.

“Is that Third Brother in Tang’er’s arms?”

The “Third Brother” referred to Chen’er.

Held by Li Shutang, Chen’er’s back stiffened. Her father rarely paid her much attention, so this sudden mention left her flustered. After a while, she looked up and quietly replied, “Yes.”

Emperor Qingzhen raised an eyebrow. “Bring him here for me to see.”

Li Shutang glanced at Pei Yun, who nodded, and nervously approached the emperor.

Though Chen’er didn’t know the emperor, he wasn’t afraid and didn’t cry. Instead, his large round eyes fixed on the tassels on his imperial grandfather’s crown, smiling and reaching to grab them.

Seeing this, the emperor thought the newborn grandson was fond of him and wanted to be held. In a good mood, he scooped up the child and said, “Hmm, Third Brother is charming, unlike his father—boring and quiet, never making a sound even when pricked with a needle.”

Though spoken with a smile, the tone clearly showed disdain for the crown prince.

Everyone knew Emperor Qingzhen disliked the crown prince’s cold, silent nature and favored the now-deceased eldest son.

Pei Yun had never met that eldest son but heard he was talented. As the legitimate eldest son of the empress, the emperor had intended to appoint him heir, but his sudden death led to the crown prince’s elevation.

Since Pei Yun married into the Eastern Palace, she knew the emperor and late empress had a troubled relationship. The emperor rarely entered the late empress’s chambers, and rumors of her deposition circulated.

Yet, despite the empress’s fall, no one sought to depose the crown prince, and the emperor had no such intention.

After all, the crown prince was outstanding both in culture and military skill, unmatched by any of the emperor’s other sons. Though disliked, the emperor had no choice but to accept him as heir—at least for now.

Lost in thought, Pei Yun saw the delighted emperor order his chief eunuch Fang Xu to bring a large red envelope for Chen’er, also rewarding the other children present.

The emperor enjoyed festivities and annually distributed “warding money” according to folk custom.

Chen’er was too young; his portion was given to the crown prince to thank on his behalf. Jin’er kept hers.

After the distribution, the emperor took his seat at the head of the hall, and others took their places.

This year’s New Year’s Eve banquet found Emperor Qingzhen in high spirits. As he watched the singing and dancing, several cups down, he grew somewhat tipsy.

Known for his frankness, he couldn’t hold back after drinking and asked loudly from one side of the hall, “Princess Ulan, tell me, which of my sons do you like? I’ll arrange a marriage for you today.”

Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “The only unmarried one is the fifth prince, but he’ll only be fourteen in a few years, too young to match the princess. The others all have legitimate wives, but if the princess doesn’t mind, there are still vacant positions for secondary consorts…”

Emperor Qingzhen had few children. Besides the fifth prince, the “others” were only the crown prince, Prince Yu, and Prince Cheng.

Though music played continuously, many present stiffened at his words.

On one side, a young woman dressed in pale blue foreign robes with a gauze veil paused in silence, then glanced around the hall. Her clear, bell-like voice rang out, “Princess Ulan leaves it entirely to His Majesty’s decision.”

The emperor frowned. “Looks like the princess doesn’t fancy any of them. No surprise—a bunch of useless men. I’ll find the best son of Da Zhao for her another day…”

At these words, Pei Yun noticed the wives of Prince Yu and Prince Cheng visibly relaxing.

She could understand them. Though veiled, the princess was said to be exceptionally beautiful and one of the top maidens of the Yuye clan.

Da Zhao’s south faced the menacing Chengtzu tribe, while the ambitious Han Da pressed from the north. Yuye bordered Han Da and was weak, so to resist Han Da, they sought Da Zhao’s protection by offering Princess Ulan in marriage.

Though from a minor clan, even as a secondary consort, the princess’s status was not too low. As a princess, whether married into the Eastern Palace or a prince’s mansion, she would be treated with respect and might even receive favor—something no legitimate consort would willingly endure.

But Pei Yun was different.

Regardless of knowing the princess’s fate or even if she chose the crown prince, she did not care.

She handed the now-sleeping Chen’er to his wet nurse and leisurely sipped her soup, suddenly aware of a burning gaze fixed on her.

She knew he was watching but pretended ignorance.

What was he looking at? Did he want to ask if she would consent if the princess chose him?

How laughable. Whether he took a consort or whom he took was none of her concern.

The emperor, in high spirits and having drunk much, grew more uninhibited. By the hour of the snake, he lost interest in staying up for the New Year and waved to end the banquet, letting Fang Xu support him down.

Everyone gradually left Chengqian Palace. Pei Yun followed the crown prince, both unhurried and among the last to leave.

Outside the hall, the wives of Prince Yu and Prince Cheng walked ahead, one after the other. Prince Yu’s wife seemed displeased. Seeing few people around, she secretly kicked her husband in a sulk and quickened her pace. Prince Yu hurried to catch up, wearing a pleading smile.

Their voices carried on the breeze, and Pei Yun faintly heard, “Is Princess Ulan beautiful… why not seek her hand, my lord…” and knew Prince Yu’s wife was jealous.

Though outwardly gentle and virtuous, she was domineering behind closed doors. On her wedding day, she dismissed all of Prince Yu’s concubines and dominated his timid nature completely. Since then, he never privately favored another woman, at most only those arranged by his wife.

The couple of Prince Cheng and his wife followed behind, a stark contrast. Cheng’s wife, Cheng Siyuan, was delicate and charming, speaking softly, always clinging like a little bird.

Snowflakes drifted down as Prince Cheng bent to ask gently, “Yuan Yuan, are you cold?”

Cheng Siyuan bit her lip and nodded faintly. Prince Cheng took her hand and warmed it as they walked slowly toward the palace gate.

Pei Yun watched their retreating figures, puzzled.

This couple seemed inseparable and deeply in love—how had they nearly divorced in their past lives?

Perhaps, lost in thought, she again felt the unavoidable gaze upon her.

This time, she did not feign ignorance but met it openly, bowing slightly. “Your Highness, I shall take my leave now.”

The two children, unable to resist sleepiness, had been sent back to the Eastern Palace early as she had ordered.

The cold was biting, and she herself would return by carriage, sparing herself from the chill by not accompanying him outside.

Just thinking of a hot bath to warm away the chill and a cozy bed made her feel quite comfortable. Lost in thought, she heard the man’s low voice.

“Go ahead and leave first. I still have some matters to attend to at Chenghua Hall.”

What did he mean by “just a visit”?

Pei Yun frowned, a bad feeling creeping up.

The next moment, his deep, mellow voice slowly said, “Tonight, I will stay overnight at your side.”