[1]The Consort is Both Charming and Scheming, Rising Through Palace Intrigue

After Xiao Yu left, Ning Shuyan remained in a daze for a long time.

She lightly brushed her fingers against the crimson-gold tassels hanging from her fan. Her apricot eyes were half-closed as she murmured, "Consort Rong is finally dead. The women of the harem are like flowers—those that wither this year will bloom again the next. They only increase, never decrease. Qiule, do you think one day I will end up like her too? The struggle in the harem is like a battlefield. No one can win every time."

The long tassels twirled between her fair fingers. The red and gold threads shimmered in the light, sometimes glowing, sometimes dimming.

Qiule rarely saw her this somber and quickly comforted her, "Your Highness is overthinking. This maid believes your path will only grow smoother from now on."

Ning Shuyan had simply been reminded of the historical imperial consorts—how many of them ever met a good end?

Take for instance, Empress Wei Zifu of the Western Han, who was humble, virtuous, and prudent all her life, yet ended it in tragic suicide.

Or Consort Qi of Emperor Gaozu, Liu Bang—she was mutilated and turned into a "human swine," one of the most horrific deaths recorded in history.

Even the famously favored Consort Dong'e of Emperor Shunzhi, known for her beauty and the Emperor's love, died young of sorrow.

Though Ning Shuyan had experienced death once already, it only made her treasure life even more. She lifted her tea cup, took a small sip, and felt a bit more clear-headed.

Surely she wouldn't be that unfortunate, right? At the very least, she hoped to live to sixty, bask in the riches of the world, and spend her later years exploring mountains and rivers. If, after death, she could go down in history as a beloved consort, then this life would be worth it.

She smiled faintly. Since she was here now, she had to live her best life.

In Qingyun Hall.

Xiao Jingyou lay on the bed, sleeping restlessly, letting out occasional sobs.

The Empress gently patted his shoulder, a deeply satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Did you send someone to summon the Emperor?"

Du Ruo replied in a low voice, "Your Majesty, rest assured. His Majesty should be on his way now."

The Empress looked down at Xiao Jingyou's small face, her smile deepening. "Crying for his royal father the moment things go wrong—truly a son raised by Jiang."

Du Ruo echoed her smile, "His habits from Jiang are hard to break. But the more he clings to the Emperor, the more advantageous it is for you, Your Majesty."

The Empress let out a content sigh. Indeed! Because of this child, she could finally send for the Emperor openly—and he would actually come, even if only every few days.

As the Empress, she had to maintain her dignity and composure. In the past, Consort Zhuang would often feign illness to have the Emperor stay with her. Now, the tables had finally turned.

Hearing footsteps outside, the Empress quickly picked up a fan and gently waved it beside Xiao Jingyou.

When Xiao Yu entered, he saw the Empress softly fanning their son, watching him with kindness.

She heard the noise and turned her head, quickly preparing to rise and salute. Xiao Yu waved her off, allowing her to remain seated.

He looked at the restless Xiao Jingyou, who was sweating slightly with a flushed face. Xiao Yu frowned slightly. "How is You'er?"

The Empress sighed lightly, gazing at the boy with maternal affection. "Perhaps it's the mother-child bond. He wouldn't stop crying earlier. I only just got him to sleep."

Xiao Yu noticed the child's clenched fists and trembling eyelids, as if he felt utterly insecure. He sat beside the bed and said gently, "You've worked hard, Empress."

The Empress smiled and shook her head. "As his mother, it's my duty. It's no hardship. But You'er kept asking for his father, so I had no choice but to summon Your Majesty."

"You'er was spoiled by Jiang and clings to me a lot. Please keep him company more often, Empress."

"Of course, Your Majesty. You can rest easy."

She paused and glanced out the window before continuing softly, "Now that You'er is asleep, should Your Majesty return to Liuyin Hall? Otherwise, Concubine Zhao might be disappointed."

It was already late, and Xiao Yu was exhausted from the day's events. Ning Shuyan might have already gone to bed.

He rubbed his temples. "Zhao Xiuyi is generous and understanding. She wouldn't take issue with this. I'll stay in Qingyun Hall tonight."

The Empress's hand, still holding the fan, paused midair. She slowly set it down, her expression remaining gentle. "Indeed, Zhao Xiuyi is known for her considerate nature. Then allow me to serve Your Majesty as you rest."

Xiao Yu nodded, and the two moved toward the bedchamber.

The Empress helped him change out of his robes, then allowed her attendants to remove her own makeup and hair ornaments.

She stole glances at Xiao Yu through the mirror, only relaxing when she saw he hadn't yet fallen asleep.

The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the room.

White smoke drifted lazily from the tail of the peacock incense burner, its scent subtle and calming.

The Empress lay beside him, gazing at him quietly. Her voice trembled slightly: "Your Majesty, I dreamed of that child yesterday. Today, when You'er clung to me in fear, I truly felt as if he were my own."

Xiao Yu, half-asleep, heard her sad tone and gently patted her back. "You'er is your child now. As for that other child... we simply had no fate with him. Don't dwell on it."

The Empress thought of her early days in the prince's residence. A small smile tugged at her lips. Back then, she was the only woman by his side.

No Consort Rong. No Consort Zhuang.

He would often visit her chambers, and when she became pregnant—with his first child—she still remembered his joy and the tender way he looked at her. He had truly wanted that child.

But... the child didn't survive.

She often wondered—if that child had lived, would Xiao Yu still be so cold toward her? Would there even be a Xiao Jingyou?

Maybe because she had no child, there had never been warmth between them—only the formalities of sovereign and subject.

After a while, she asked, "Your Majesty, do you still want another legitimate son?"

As she spoke, her hand moved slowly to his waist. When she looked up, she saw that he was already asleep, his breathing even and calm.

His blurry face looked more distant the longer she stared. Though he came to her two days a month, their intimacy happened only every two or three months.

As a wife, she had never truly possessed her husband's heart. That was the greatest failure of her life.

So, she would focus on being Empress and solidify her power. Status and authority—these were the only things she could truly hold onto, the only way she could gain glory and honor in this lifetime.