Zhang Xu was right, this Contraceptive Decoction was indeed incomparably cold.

Zhao Yen had usually been rather hardy, yet after drinking the decoction, when her monthly flow came, the pain was as if a blunt knife were cutting her belly, waves of cold surging again and again.

Liuying wrapped layer upon layer of the underpants her mistress had just changed out of and took them away to be destroyed, then stuffed a warm handwarmer into Zhao Yen’s ice-cold fingers, softly asking: “Your Highness, can you still enter the palace today?”

Zhao Yen, with difficulty, nodded, warming her belly as she said: “After returning from the palace, all the greetings must be paid.”

Liuying wished to dissuade her but held back, only nodding: “Your Highness should lie down a little longer, this servant will go down and make arrangements.”

Zhao Yen had not slept well for half the night, and at dawn drank medicine to suppress her voice. When the scent of calamus incense and the smell of elixirs in the Taiji Hall assailed her, nausea immediately rose.

Behind the sheer gauze thin enough to let light through, the Emperor, dressed in a cyan Daoist robe, sat cross-legged amid the bright lamps. Consort Zhen, wearing a golden lotus crown, and the Daoist Master Shen Guang holding a horsetail whisk accompanied him to the left and right, seeming to be calculating some important matter.

Zhao Yen vaguely heard words like “the Northern Garden halls destroyed by wind and thunder” and “rebuild the Starlight Temple,” and knew it was most likely about exhausting the people and squandering wealth.

“…the Golden Core is complete, the jade swallow flies into the bosom, this is joy bestowed by Heaven.”

Consort Zhen delicately poured green tea. Seeing the “Crown Prince” enter the hall, she smilingly halted her words.

Suppressing the turmoil in her chest, Zhao Yen waited until the voices behind the gauze fell silent, then properly folded her sleeves and kowtowed: “This child greets Father Emperor in peace.”

“You have returned.”

The Emperor seemed somewhat absent-minded, speaking slowly: “Resting these days, is your body better?”

The bricks were cold and hard beneath her. Zhao Yen lowered her eyes and bowed her head, enduring her discomfort, saying: “By Father Emperor’s protection, your child’s condition has seen improvement. Your child is grateful for Father Emperor’s favor, and has especially brought back two things as a slight token of filial piety.”

Slightly raising her eyes, behind her Li Fu at once presented the tray long prepared.

On the tray lay a composition written in imitation of the Crown Prince’s style, and a pot of pure water taken from the depths of the spring in Yuquan Palace.

The Emperor skimmed past the neat, weighty essay, only picking up the jade pot to pour a cup, praising: “Good water!”

Daoist Master Shen Guang gazed at his nose, his nose at his heart, at once stroking his beard to echo: “Long have I heard that the spring of Yuquan Palace gushes from the depths of the dragon vein, with the effect of prolonging life. To take elixirs with it is most fitting.”

“The Crown Prince has done well.”

The Emperor rarely praised a word, yet it was not for the essay of policy, not for the people of the realm, only for a pot of “spiritual spring” brought back casually.

“Thank you for Father Emperor’s unmerited praise.” Zhao Yen lowered her eyelids, the corner of her lips almost imperceptibly moving.

“Your coming is just right.”

The Emperor suddenly remembered a matter and instructed: “In just over a month it will be your mother empress’s birthday. Last year you left the palace to escape the heat and could not show filial piety before her. This year I entrust it to you to properly arrange this birthday banquet, to make up for the regret.”

Zhao Yen said: “Your child accepts the decree.”

The Emperor said no more, waving his sleeve to signal her to withdraw.

Zhao Yen felt relieved. As she saluted and took her leave, she brushed past a eunuch.

The eunuch bowed with folded sleeves toward Zhao Yen, then hastened forward to whisper something at the Emperor’s ear.

The Emperor pondered and weighed, closing his eyes: “No rush, send it in two days.”

The eunuch’s complexion changed slightly, but he only responded with a low “Yes.”

Zhao Yen folded her sleeves and withdrew from the Taiji Hall, not knowing the events that followed.

Taking a deep breath, Zhao Yen clenched Liuying’s hand to endure the waves of dull pain in her abdomen, then asked: “Just now I heard Consort Zhen say something about ‘jade swallow flying into the bosom,’ do you know what matter this is?”

Liuying glanced around on all sides, lowered her voice, and said: “This servant just learned from the female historian that Xu Wanyi is pregnant. It is said that on the night before the diagnosis she even dreamed of auspicious clouds entering her bosom. People are saying that Xu Wanyi is very likely carrying a prince.”

At these words Zhao Yen sneered coldly. She had never believed in such strange, confusing matters of gods and demons.

However, the descendants of the Zhao clan in this generation were thin in number. Father Emperor had cultivated for half his life, yet had only five daughters and one son. In these last ten years, there had been no more issue, as though cursed. Now, at this critical juncture, suddenly came news that a concubine was with child—it was truly strange.

Zhao Yen concentrated for a moment, then asked: “This Xu Wanyi, is she one of Consort Zhen’s people?”

Liuying shook her head: “It is said that Consort Zhen has always been devoted to the Dao and does not seem to have any schemes of the inner palace. But because Xu Wanyi’s situation is light and detached, uncontentious with the world, the consorts are all willing to make friends with her.”

Strictly speaking, Consort Zhen could not be considered an unmatched beauty of peerless allure, yet she excelled in her transcendent bearing. With her golden lotus crown upon her head, horsetail whisk in hand, smiling faintly as she burned incense, she truly had some of the appearance of a divine consort walking out from a painting, striking exactly Father Emperor’s pursuit of immortality and the Dao.

Such humanity of Consort Zhen—benevolent and approachable—together with the divinity of donning Daoist robes, was something the cold and stern majesty of Empress Wei could by no means compare with.

Zhao Yen turned her steps and ordered: “Go to Kunning Palace.”

“The Empress has, in these days, fallen ill from accumulated worries, the headaches are severe. The Imperial Physician has just administered acupuncture, and she is now resting inside.”

The female historian stepped forward, giving a respectful bow, and led Zhao Yen into the hall.

Zhao Yen pressed her lips together hard, then rubbed her cheeks with her palms, afterward whispering to Liuying: “How is it?”

Liuying looked carefully at the blood color rubbed out on her mistress’s face, then nodded: “Your complexion looks much better.”

Only then did Zhao Yen feign her usual appearance, reassured as she lifted her foot and entered the hall.

On the desk, incense smoke curled upward. Empress Wei sat upright on a small couch, eyes closed, letting a palace maid knead her temples to relax her.

Her complexion was not good, her long brows knit like an unloosening knot. Even so, her makeup was still grand and complete, her phoenix robe covering her, showing not the slightest sign of decline, as though an undefeated female general forever sat above.

Seeing Zhao Yen enter to pay respects, she opened her eyes, restored her usual cold composure and dignified severity, and lifted her hand to signal the maids to withdraw.

“Hearing that Mother Empress is slightly unwell.”

Zhao Yen bowed and raised her head, saying, “Is it because of Xu Wanyi’s matter?”

“An old ailment.”

Empress Wei looked upon this face before her, familiar beyond measure, and for a moment was distracted. “You have grown more haggard.”

Zhao Yen started, subconsciously touched her own face. Clearly she had already rubbed out a bit of color, yet still was seen through.

She could only find an excuse: “Yesterday on the way back to the palace, a horse was frightened and fell off the cliff. Perhaps I was startled and have not yet recovered.”

“This matter I also have heard of.”

Empress Wei’s phoenix eyes were calm as she said: “Keeping Lady Liu at your side was always a hidden danger. Now that she is gone, it is also good.”

Zhao Yen knew that Mother Empress spoke from consideration for the greater situation, without mixing personal feelings, yet in her heart there still rose a stifling block.

To those in high position behind her, it seemed that only profit and the greater situation could be seen. Human lives were not worth mention, the truth of Zhao Yan’s wrongful death was not worth mention.

Zhao Yen pointed with her finger, raising her beautiful, stubborn eyes: “Does Mother Empress not wish to ask what your child has come to know in these days outside the palace?”

Empress Wei gazed at her, calmly saying: “If you mean the matter of the ‘Fu Deng,’ this palace has nothing to ask.”

“Mother Empress knows?” Zhao Yen was shocked.

“Yan’er was this palace’s son. As a mother, how could one wholly not know what one’s child is thinking, what one’s child is doing.”

“You know why Elder Brother died… you know the murderer?”

“Prince Yong, Prince Su, and even the aristocratic clans touched by profit… which one of them could not be the culprit? But even so, who among you and I can move against them?”