Zhao Yang eagerly opened the brocade box to find a stunning gold hairpin adorned with white jade plum blossoms. The petals were delicately carved from white jade, with a gemstone embedded at the center, its design exquisitely intricate.
Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. She fastened the hairpin herself, beaming as she declared, “This princess adores this hairpin.”
Yan Yunting rarely gave her gifts.
Every present he had ever given her, Zhao Yang cherished with utmost care.
As Yan Yunting took in her radiant smile, his gaze wavered for an imperceptible moment before he bowed and retreated to the section reserved for male guests.
...
At the far end of the seating area, Shen Wei silently observed everything.
Ugh, what a scoundrel.
Clearly harboring feelings for Zhao Yang, yet unable to let go of Tantai Rou—a two-timing cad.
Just as Shen Wei was inwardly lambasting Yan Yunting, a gentle voice reached her ears: “Lady Shen?”
The voice was tender. Shen Wei looked up to see Sun Qingmei, whom she hadn’t encountered since their parting at the Eastern Mountain hunt. The Lady of Marquis of Southern Garrison remained as poised and kind as ever.
“Lady Shen, you seem rather pale. Are you unwell?” Sun Qingmei inquired softly.
Shen Wei rose and replied, “Perhaps it’s the early morning rise—I haven’t had enough rest. Thank you for your concern, Lady Sun.”
Sun Qingmei studied Shen Wei’s pallid complexion, still unconvinced.
Before she could press further, a eunuch from the princess’s estate announced loudly, “Her Majesty the Empress has arrived!”
The Empress was here!
Sun Qingmei had no choice but to swiftly return to her seat, joining the others in bowing and offering greetings.
The Empress, a figure of majestic authority and mother to Princess Zhao Yang, commanded reverence. Shen Wei kept her head lowered throughout the formalities until the sound of footsteps ceased at the main seat, and a dignified voice rang out: “You may rise.”
The assembly settled back into their places.
Shen Wei sat primly at the very end, sipping citrus water to steady her nerves. At the head of the hall, the Empress sat with her hair coiled high, exuding regal grace, her features strikingly reminiscent of Zhao Yang’s.
Taking a discreet deep breath, Shen Wei felt a prickle of tension. She had attended Zhao Yang’s birthday banquet chiefly to meet the Empress.
She needed the illustrious Empress’s assistance to achieve a small, personal goal.
From the main seat, the Empress’s voice, both commanding and warm, carried across the hall: “Today marks Zhao Yang’s birthday—a joyous occasion. Let food and drink flow freely, and may none of you hold back.”
Zhao Yang sat obediently beside the Empress, her eyes brimming with delight.
Music swelled, and songs filled the air.
Prince Yan and the Crown Prince, occupied with border military affairs, couldn’t attend in person. However, they had arranged for the court musicians to perform Zhao Yang’s favorite pieces: *Golden Branches and Jade Leaves of Spring* and *Apricot Garden in Springtime*.
As the melodies of strings and flutes danced, Zhao Yang listened with visible pleasure.
When the music concluded, it was time for the guests to present their gifts. The prime minister’s eldest daughter offered Zhao Yang a fine guqin; Sun Qingmei, Lady of Marquis of Southern Garrison, presented an exquisite piece of Shu embroidery.
The Crown Princess’s two daughters, each clutching a delicate agate bracelet, toddled over to Zhao Yang.
The elder girl said sweetly, “Aunt Zhao Yang, these are the bracelets Wan’er and Nanzhi made for you. Let us put them on you.”
Li Nanzhi tilted her little head and added, “May Auntie stay forever as lovely as spring blossoms.”
The two girls were utterly endearing. Zhao Yang fastened the bracelets, then plucked two pastries from a tray and smiled. “Wan’er and Nanzhi must stay beautiful too.”
Blushing, the girls clutched their treats and scampered back to the Crown Princess.
The Empress watched approvingly. The Crown Princess had raised her daughters well—they were polite and unflustered even in grand settings.
If only...
The Crown Prince was frail, incapable of fathering more children. Had the Crown Princess borne a son, she would undoubtedly have raised him splendidly.
With the Crown Prince’s days numbered, Prince Yan was destined to inherit the throne.
Yet, the Empress couldn’t help but dwell on Prince Yan’s sons—his consort’s two boys, stifled under pressure; Liu Qiao’er, his concubine, whose son was born frail, still unable to walk at nearly two; and the other sons by lesser consorts, lacking proper guidance, all timid as mice.
Not a single one showed promise!
To make matters worse, no new pregnancies had been reported in Prince Yan’s household. Recently, a maidservant had conceived—only for it to be revealed the child was the stableman’s, nearly turning Prince Yan into the laughingstock of the capital.
The Empress massaged her temples, exasperated.
After the Crown Princess’s daughters presented their gifts, it was Prince Yan’s consort’s turn. The consort’s attendant, Matron Liu, stepped forward with an ornate phoenix-carved brocade box.
Inside lay a flawless white Hetian jade *ruyi* scepter, its surface pristine and undoubtedly valuable.
Though Zhao Yang had little fondness for gold and jade, she maintained a gracious smile. “This jade *ruyi* is exquisite. Thank you, Second Sister-in-Law.”
The consort exhaled in relief, smiling in return. “If it pleases Her Highness, that is enough.”
Lately, the consort had been preoccupied with her children’s studies and her own devotions. The previous night, she’d instructed Matron Liu to select any costly item from the storeroom as a birthday gift.
Both Zhao Yang and the consort assumed it was acceptable. Yet a few elderly noblewomen exchanged subtle glances of surprise—though none voiced their thoughts.
When the Empress glimpsed the jade *ruyi*, her expression darkened instantly.
She shot a veiled glare at the consort, her silk handkerchief clenched tightly. Tantai Shuya clearly hadn’t spared a thought for Zhao Yang’s birthday, carelessly selecting *this* of all things...
Every other noblewoman had chosen their gifts with painstaking care—only Prince Yan’s consort had treated the occasion with such blatant disregard.
In such a public setting, the Empress could hardly reprimand her. She swallowed her fury, forcing composure.
Once the consort’s turn ended, Prince Heng sauntered forward. With a lazy wave, his attendant hauled up a large chest filled with popular novels from the capital.
Ever the irreverent free spirit, Prince Heng fanned himself with a white jade-handled fan and drawled, “Zhao Yang, your Third Brother brings you some amusing tales. If they don’t suit your fancy, I’ll send over a few handsome actors instead—they can sing operas for you in your estate every day.”
The Empress’s face chilled.
Among the male guests, Yan Yunting frowned. Prince Heng was entirely capable of such frivolity. Even if the Emperor learned of it, he’d only offer a mild reprimand—nothing more.
The Emperor was endlessly indulgent toward Prince Heng, granting him military authority and turning a blind eye to his faction-building.
Familiar with her brother’s antics, Zhao Yang remained unruffled, her smile sweet as ever. “The novels are delightful. They’ll make for pleasant leisure reading. Thank you, Third Brother.”
Prince Heng grinned, then abruptly shifted topics. “Zhao Yang, I heard Second Brother’s household has a maidservant who once saved your life. She’s here today, isn’t she? Tell me—what birthday gift has this little maidservant prepared for you?”
Shen Wei, mid-sip of water: ...
Trouble had come knocking without warning.
