Fu Ye lost all interest in sightseeing after hearing those tragic stories. He felt a deep melancholy settle over him. Sensing his mood, Shuangfu said, “It’s too cold out, Your Highness. Let’s go back and have something to eat. I brought that hawthorn pudding you like.”
Fu Ye had been craving it recently. “Good idea. I’m hungry anyway.”
So they turned back.
Lihua Palace was vast, with long distances between the various halls. The Empress Dowager had taken up residence in Ziyang Palace, where Consort Li lived, while Fu Ye was assigned to the Red Blossom Palace, where Consort Ning resided.
Red Blossom Palace was located on an island in a lake near the southern gate of the palace grounds. It wasn’t large, and there was a stone pagoda on the island that housed a jade Buddha. The island was ringed with purple reeds, which looked like a field of withered red from afar. With the pagoda in the background, the place had a secluded, otherworldly feel. It was clear Consort Ning valued peace and quiet.
It was rare for the palace to have this many people. Attendants bustled about. Since this area housed the former consorts, the guards were stationed outside. Consort Li was directing the palace staff to bring food to the guards.
It was clear she was the one in charge here.
She had changed into her casual clothing, but she looked even more stunning than she had during the ancestral rites. Hers was a kind of bold, striking beauty that shone even without makeup.
On the way there, Fu Ye had overheard the Empress Dowager chatting, saying Consort Li resembled Lady Zhaoyang. But Shuangfu had whispered that Lady Zhaoyang was even more beautiful—though Fu Ye wasn’t sure if that was just flattery.
Consort Li spotted him from a distance.
Fu Ye walked over and bowed deeply. “Your Grace.”
Consort Li said, “If you’re looking to enjoy the scenery, head west. There’s a grove of plum trees there—they’re in full bloom and quite lovely.”
Fu Ye smiled. “It’s too cold. I’d rather go warm up first.”
She immediately turned to her maidservant and ordered, “Go to my chambers and fetch the black fox fur cloak for His Highness.”
Fu Ye hurried to decline. “No need, I’m not cold. I’ve just been outside too long. And I’m already wearing enough layers—any more and I might not be able to walk properly!”
Consort Li smiled, and only then did a few fine lines appear at the corners of her eyes. “Then hurry back inside and warm up with some hot tea. Consort Ning has some excellent Daoist tea in her palace.”
Fu Ye bowed and took his leave, heading back toward the Red Blossom Palace. After walking a few steps, he glanced back—Consort Li was still watching him, but the smile had vanished from her face. In its place was a quiet, sharp solemnity.
He thought of the princes who had died, and a wave of melancholy washed over him. These sons of royalty, once surrounded by wealth and luxury, admired by the world, had turned on one another and ended up like this. In the end, even a life draped in splendor was nothing but an illusion.
Back in his room, the little red clay stove glowed warmly. In the depths of winter, it was both beautiful and comforting. He stared into the flames in a daze. Shuangfu, regretting how his storytelling had dampened Fu Ye’s mood, laid out a full table of snacks and pastries in an effort to cheer him up.
Fu Ye warmed his hands by the fire and softly said, “Green ant wine freshly brewed, red clay stove in the snow…”
Shuangfu asked, “Would Your Highness like a drink?”
Qingxi gently shook her head. Shuangfu quickly caught on and added, “Actually… I’m not sure if we’re even allowed to drink here in Consort Ning’s quarters.”
That made Fu Ye laugh.
Truthfully, he did want a drink.
Outside, he heard footsteps—women dressed in Daoist robes were walking down the corridor. Through the semi-translucent paper window, he could make out their silhouettes. Moments later, a eunuch announced from outside, “My lord, Her Grace Consort Ning is here.”
Fu Ye stood up at once, and Consort Ning entered.
Her hair was arranged in an elegant, towering taiji bun, and she wore simple grayish-blue Daoist robes. The entire woman had the air of a sacred whisk—pure, detached, and unsullied.
She had only come to ask if he needed anything. Fu Ye said he did not, and with that, she took her leave.
She was the picture of quiet refinement, with few words and no unnecessary pleasantries—a stark contrast to the vibrant and charming Consort Li.
Even the attendants around her, also dressed in Daoist robes, were strikingly different. Each of them had an air of disciplined energy, their bearing sharp and straight like unsheathed swords—completely unlike the typical palace maids.
Consort Ning had brought over some vegetarian cakes. They came in red and green and were made from unknown ingredients, giving them a distinct appearance. Fu Ye tried two, then let Qingxi and Shuangfu have the rest. Shuangfu took one, but Qingxi, ever mindful of etiquette, refused to touch them.
People from Qingyuan Palace really did follow rules to the letter.
It made him think of Fu Huang again—cold, restrained, and void of desire.
Fu Ye had a lot on his mind today. He sat by the fire, lost in thought.
Originally, his plan was simple: just stay quietly by Fu Huang’s side until the end, then find a way to retreat with his whole body intact. But now… that thought was starting to waver.
“Do you think we could change other people’s endings too?” he asked.
Maybe the world wouldn’t fall into chaos. Maybe the people wouldn’t suffer the pain of war.
Maybe Fu Huang wouldn’t have to die such a miserable death.
He thought to himself—Fu Huang wasn’t an irredeemable tyrant. He wasn’t beyond saving.
Xiao Ai said, “I knew you’d go soft. But honestly, this time, you might actually have a chance to change how things play out. I reread some of the plot the last couple of days, and it turns out something major’s going down at tonight’s palace banquet.”
Fu Ye perked up. “What major thing?”
Xiao Ai replied, “According to the plot, Fu Huang gets overthrown by the new emperor of Dayong. But Da Zhou has been around for over a hundred years—it’s a vast empire with tons of talent. There’s a side character in the original called Xie Liangbi—youngest son of Prime Minister Xie, a member of the imperial guard. He’s basically Fu Huang’s die-hard fanboy.”
“He has fanboys?” Fu Ye was incredulous.
“Say what you want about Fu Huang, but the man was a war hero. It’s not surprising he had admirers. Honestly, a lot of soldiers in Da Zhou’s army are still big fans of his.”
So that’s how it was.
That’s probably the true source of his grip on power—after all, real authority comes from the end of a spear.
“And then?”
“In the original story, after Fu Huang dies, this guy Xie Liangbi actually supports another branch of the Fu clan in a failed rebellion. He ends up getting killed in battle, but the male lead gives him a hero’s burial. He’s a total powerhouse, super memorable—tons of fans ship him with the protagonist.”
“…Wait, and how does this connect to tonight’s big event?”
“Well, when the novel talks about Xie Liangbi’s background, it says: ‘At the New Year’s Eve palace banquet, Consort Ning attempted to avenge her son and led assassins to kill the emperor. Xie Liangbi earned his post as imperial guard by saving the emperor’s life.’”
Fu Ye: “!!”
Consort Ning?!
He suddenly recalled her face—cold, pure, and remote like a quiet chrysanthemum.
He stood up at once.
“Royal family power struggles have always been brutal—winners take the throne, losers become criminals. Fu Hui offering Fu Huang poisoned wine, and Fu Huang forcing him to drink it in return… that’s not so surprising. As Fu Hui’s mother, it makes sense that Consort Ning would hate Fu Huang. But she overestimated her planning—trying to take him down was like smashing an egg on a rock. She only ended up throwing away the lives of her loyal followers,” Xiao Ai said. “Maybe we can start from here—maybe we can change the story. Saving even one life is better than building seven pagodas.”
But could he really stop it?
Fu Ye left his room.
Qingxi and Shuangfu were still standing guard outside.
“Your Highness.”
“Where is Consort Ning?”
“I think she went to Ziyang Palace.”
He hurried to Ziyang Palace—only to find that Empress Dowager Zhang had already risen.
Consort Ning was quietly standing beside her.
Empress Dowager Zhang smiled and said, “Ye’er, you came at just the right time. Consort Ning mentioned that the plum blossoms in the Western Garden are in full bloom. Go pick a few for me.”
The Empress Dowager had always loved plum blossoms. Even the robes of her palace attendants were often embroidered with them.
Fu Ye replied, “I’m not too familiar with the grounds. Could I trouble Consort Ning to accompany me?”
Empress Dowager Zhang waved her hand. “Such a small task—no need to bother the Consort.”
Consort Ning remained composed. Though she wasn’t traditionally beautiful, she carried herself with undeniable grace and dignity. She said calmly, “I was just thinking of taking a walk through the plum grove myself.”
With that, she took her leave of the Empress Dowager and departed Ziyang Palace with Fu Ye. As they stepped outside, they ran into Consort Li returning. Consort Ning didn’t even spare her a glance. Fu Ye gave Consort Li a respectful bow, and once they were a distance away, he glanced back to see her still watching them.
Fu Ye followed closely behind Consort Ning. A thick sandalwood scent lingered from her robes, her posture straight and graceful like a bamboo stalk—calm, refined, almost ethereal. He was just about to speak when a court eunuch suddenly ran toward them in a fluster.
“Consort Ning!” he called out breathlessly.
She frowned. “Such recklessness—have you forgotten your manners?”
Panting, the eunuch dropped to his knees. “Your Ladyship! The Emperor—His Majesty—he’s arrived!”
Fu Ye’s eyes widened in shock, and even Consort Ning’s face changed.
The eunuch continued, “He’s already outside the south gate!”
Fu Ye quickly stepped forward. Ziyang Palace sat on elevated ground directly facing the south gate, offering an unobstructed view. From there, he saw the gates of the temporary palace swing open. The guards stationed outside were all kneeling. Several young men on horseback galloped through the entrance. The bells on the watchtowers jingled as eunuchs began calling out loudly:
“His Majesty arrives!”
“His Majesty arrives!”
“His Majesty arrives!”
The cries echoed from the gate all the way to the front of Ziyang Palace and then continued spreading farther. Palace staff along the route knelt immediately as Fu Huang rode past on a magnificent red steed. The horse’s hooves echoed rhythmically—like he was cutting straight through the palace, unchallenged.
Fu Ye descended the jade steps quickly and passed through the palace gate, stepping onto the imperial path. His robes whipped in the wind like crimson clouds rolling through the sky.
Chief Eunuch Qin and the others dismounted and halted. Only Fu Huang remained on horseback, moving slowly and steadily until he stopped before Fu Ye.
From his high perch, the Son of Heaven looked down upon Fu Ye, who respectfully bowed low with practiced ease. Then he looked up with a brilliant smile, as if overjoyed to see him. “Royal Brother!”
It was the first time Fu Ye had seen Fu Huang dressed like this—refined and elegant, with an imposing presence. There was a sharp, somber beauty to him, like a blade forged in winter. For a brief moment, Fu Ye stared into those unreadable eyes, and Fu Huang asked with a faint smirk, “Don’t recognize me?”
Fu Ye grinned. “With Your Majesty dressed like this, I almost mistook you for an immortal descended from heaven.”
Fu Huang: “…”
He looked away, tone wry. “Sharp-tongued, as always.”
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