Chapter Ten: What Does It Mean to Think Twice?

Yurong Palace.

The incense burner sent wisps of fragrance curling through the air, filling the room with a subtle, lingering scent. In a chamber veiled by brocade drapes woven with fish motifs, a woman sat before her embroidery frame, slender fingers delicately tracing the length of her elaborate needlework. It was a grand tapestry depicting a hundred birds returning to their nests, so vivid and lifelike it might have been the masterpiece of a renowned painter.

“Your Highness, the Empress Dowager requests your presence.”

Hui Study had undergone a few changes, such as the addition of four clusters of purple orchids in the corners of the garden. Once a place of understated elegance, the purple orchids lent it a touch of brightness—a spot of violet amid a sea of green.

Within Hui Study, a small Buddhist chapel had been set up exclusively for the Empress Dowager’s use.

Consort Yu made her way there directly, as she had done countless times before; she could have found her way with her eyes closed.

Inside the chapel, the Empress Dowager was dressed in a robe of green satin patterned with interlacing lotus blossoms, a brush held in her right hand as she diligently copied out Buddhist scriptures. Her gaze never wavered, as though the scripture alone existed in her eyes.

“Your servant pays respects to the Empress Dowager,” Consort Yu greeted respectfully.

The chapel was serene and unadorned, suffused with a gentle tranquility. Golden drapes hung neatly all around, immaculate and spotless, and the gleaming Buddha statue enthroned at the heart of the chamber wore a gentle expression, its gaze soft yet imbued with a benevolent omniscience.

“Xiao’er, do you know why I have summoned you at this hour?” The Empress Dowager neither looked up nor paused her writing, her tone deep and inscrutable.

“In reply to Your Majesty, I believe I understand,” Consort Yu nodded knowingly, a shadow of worry appearing beneath her refined makeup.

Her hand brushed the pale blue butterfly jade pendant at her waist—a treasure bestowed upon her by His Majesty when she entered the palace a year prior. Though precious, it was not unique; every newcomer to the palace received such a gift.

“I trust your intelligence, so you must already comprehend the situation. The harem, which once seemed a placid lake, has suddenly been stirred by a carp leaping for the dragon gate, sending waves rippling in every direction. The other fish, jealous and covetous, are eager to take her place. I must say, they do not know their own limits. The carp may appear weak, but she is cunning and shrewd,” the Empress Dowager said slowly, her hand never faltering.

“Therefore, we must refrain from acting rashly; let them muddy the waters themselves. This way, we can also test the depth of the Queen’s resolve before making further plans.” Her hand caressed the cold jade pendant, then closed around it tightly. “Would you not agree, Xiao’er?”

The Empress Dowager finally paused, turning to face her with a look of satisfaction.

“Xiao’er, well done. Others might see this as an opportune moment—a time to stir the waters further—but they fail to realize that once the mud splashes on you, it leaves an indelible stain. If you fail to stir the water as intended, you will only end up mired in mud yourself.”

Night fell. The sky was clear and profound, yet it was regrettably a moonless night.

At supper, four dishes and a soup were set on the table, fragrant and steaming, lending the scene a cozy harmony.

“Xier, the meaning of this character is roughly…” In the room, Xuexue was about to explain a word in the book, but a certain little imp interrupted her without the slightest sense of propriety.

“Ah! It smells so good! Mother, I’m hungry—let’s eat first!” Before the words had fully left her lips, the little figure had already scampered happily to the table, climbing onto a chair with the help of a maid, her mouth watering at the sight of the feast.

“Then let’s begin,” Xuexue instructed Taoxin to put away the book, not the least bit annoyed.

After all, one could hardly expect more from a child like little Xier, who was only four years old. This was the age for laughter and happiness; harsh discipline would only backfire. Better to let things happen naturally.

“Oh! Time to eat!” the little girl exclaimed in delight, her childish face alight with innocent joy.

But her smile was short-lived, soon interrupted by a delighted young maid who came to announce happy news.

“Your Highness, His Majesty has arrived—he has just entered the palace gates.” The maid beamed with joy. The King had been extremely busy lately and had not visited Anxue Palace since the wedding. Though he had not gone elsewhere either, the maid remained deeply anxious, fearing that a single day without favor would mean her mistress’s downfall.

The maid’s happiness was not shared by little Xier, who instantly frowned, her childish face contorted with displeasure. She made no attempt to hide her feelings, her expression long and sour. Xuexue, meanwhile, simply nodded, then led Xier and the maids to await His Majesty’s arrival.

Ji Wuqing entered quietly, signaling the maids not to perform formal greetings and instructing them all to withdraw.

He wore a loose, immaculate robe the color of clouded pines, matching the deep, luminous blue of the night sky. A white sash fluttered at his waist, his long, dark hair cascading down his back, nearly blending with the fabric. His demeanor was unchanged—gentle as sunlight in spring, radiating warmth.

Behind him came a retinue of palace attendants, including the rarely seen Temple Jian. The attendants paused outside, while only Temple Jian and a young eunuch carrying a brocade box followed him in.

“Xue’er, how disobedient you are. Haven’t I told you that such formalities are unnecessary when you’re with me?” Ji Wuqing steadied Xuexue as she moved to bow, his tone tinged with helplessness.

“Your Majesty, it will not happen again,” Xuexue sighed inwardly, a little at a loss for how to respond to his indulgence. Was he determined to spoil her without limit?

“It had better not. If you do it again, I’ll have to punish you,” Ji Wuqing teased affectionately, drawing closer, his gaze brimming with a singular tenderness—a fleeting, dazzling light, as natural as it was ephemeral.

Xuexue nodded calmly, taking it in stride.

But the little girl beside her pouted dramatically, her small eyes flashing with defiant anger. Her round, rosy cheeks puffed up adorably—like a little fish blowing bubbles in a lotus pond, irresistibly cute and not in the least bit intimidating.

Seeing this, Ji Wuqing playfully met her glare, until little Xier finally gave in, turning away with a sulky pout, refusing to look at the “scoundrel” who dared tease her mother.

“My Xier princess has quite a temper. I wonder if Teacher Xu has been too lenient or if she’s still lacking some discipline,” Ji Wuqing said with a gentle patience, picking little Xier up in his arms, the very picture of a loving father.

Little Xier struggled for a moment but ultimately surrendered.

Dinner was a lively affair, tense yet full of warmth.

Before long, it was time for bed. Little Xier was mercilessly sent back to her own room by Ji Wuqing, her face dark with displeasure but her eyes already plotting mischief.

“The dish you made earlier, ‘Three Thoughts Stir-Fried Pork,’ was rather intriguing—Xue’er, you always have such creative ideas,” Ji Wuqing remarked as he sat in the room, idly leafing through white rice paper covered in neat, elegant script. The handwriting was precise, as if traced directly from a book. Ji Wuqing studied it carefully, his handsome features taking on an inscrutable depth.

“It’s only a simple dish, Your Majesty. Who would have thought it would occupy your thoughts so?” Xuexue replied from her seat at the dressing table, letting her maid tend to her damp hair.

She had just bathed and changed into a pale, moon-white robe—loose and warm, its hem trailing like the gathering clouds at the horizon, thick and soft.

“Three Thoughts: first, think on all that has passed; second, reflect on the burdens of today; third, ponder the myriad possibilities of tomorrow. The meaning is quite profound,” Ji Wuqing mused, his gaze deepening as he looked at her.

“Your Majesty overthinks—it's merely ‘Three Shreds Stir-Fried Pork,’ nothing more,” Xuexue explained quietly.