Shen Wei, upon hearing this, discreetly lifted her gaze to observe.
The emperor was advanced in years, his temples already streaked with silver, his frame unusually gaunt. His cloudy eyes held a shrewd yet kindly glow. He took a small taste of the "brown sugar chilled cake" with a porcelain spoon.
Though he barely sampled it, the emperor still affectionately told Zhao Yang, "Delicious. You’ve put thought into this, Zhao Yang."
The Empress, after trying a few bites of the "mint sago jelly," also found it novel and praised it enthusiastically.
Shen Wei’s heart raced with excitement!
Originally, she had planned for Princess Zhao Yang to be the "spokesperson" for her dessert shop. But today, fortune smiled upon her—the emperor and Empress had visited the princess’s estate and even tasted her pastries!
Instant fame!
With the emperor’s personal endorsement of "delicious," her dessert shop would soon be renowned across the land. Perhaps even in the annals of Qing State’s history, it would be recorded: *On such-and-such year and day, during Zhao Yang’s birthday celebration, the emperor and Empress tasted brown sugar chilled cake and mint sago jelly for the first time, both declaring them excellent.*
Shen Wei lowered her head, struggling to suppress the upward curl of her lips, already envisioning mountains of gold and silver.
Her dessert shop was destined to become a century-old legacy.
It wasn’t just the emperor and Empress who praised the treats—the guests at the banquet were equally effusive about the three novel delicacies.
Suppressing her exhilaration, Shen Wei reminded herself this wasn’t the time to celebrate. She still had one crucial matter to attend to.
Taking a bite of the "fresh milk stewed with peach resin," Shen Wei suddenly covered her mouth and nose with a delicate hand, her fine brows knitting slightly as a pallor washed over her face.
She looked as though she might vomit at any moment.
Prince Yan noticed Shen Wei’s odd behavior and grasped her hand. "Weiwei, what’s wrong? Do you not like this dessert?"
Shen Wei clutched her chest, seemingly unable to speak.
The commotion drew the attention of Zhao Yang, seated at the head table.
Noticing Shen Wei’s pale complexion, the princess inquired with concern, "Shen Wei, are you unwell? Someone, summon the palace physician!"
Since it was the princess’s birthday banquet, a physician was naturally on standby in the rear hall. A silver-haired court physician soon arrived with his medical kit and took Shen Wei’s pulse.
Moments later, the physician respectfully informed Prince Yan, "Congratulations, Your Highness. This lady is one month with child. Her nausea is due to dietary discomfort during pregnancy."
Prince Yan’s expression shifted with astonishment.
Nearby, Prince Heng, who had been observing covertly, arched a brow in contemplation.
Shen Wei feigned surprise before turning a joyful gaze toward Prince Yan, stammering with emotion, "Y-Your Highness... we’re going to have a child. From now on, there’ll be one more person in this world to love you alongside me."
Prince Yan was no stranger to fatherhood, having experienced the joy of it before. Now, with Shen Wei’s pregnancy, he was naturally pleased.
Beyond mere happiness, a secret satisfaction swelled within him—especially when he heard her say, *one more person to love him.* His heart overflowed with Shen Wei’s devotion.
"Excellent! Truly excellent!" Prince Yan clasped Shen Wei’s slender hand, his handsome face breaking into a genuine smile.
The stir didn’t go unnoticed. The Empress, seated at the head table, soon learned of Shen Wei’s condition.
The Empress was overjoyed!
For the past two years, Prince Yan’s household had seen no new births, a fact that had weighed heavily on her.
Now, with a child growing in Shen Wei’s womb—especially if it turned out to be a boy—her worries would be partly eased.
Her delight, however, was tinged with scrutiny as her gaze shifted to Prince Yan’s primary consort. The woman sat composed in her seat, her still-elegant face a mask of calm. Yet the subtle tightening of her prayer beads betrayed her turmoil.
As a woman herself, the Empress could easily guess the consort’s thoughts.
Silently, she resolved to admonish the consort later—Shen Wei’s child must be brought safely into the world.
Shen Wei sat quietly beside Prince Yan, her face alight with the joy of impending motherhood, though inwardly she heaved a sigh of relief.
Truthfully, she had known of her pregnancy days ago—her recent nausea and sudden craving for sour foods were unmistakable signs. Given the frequency of her nightly engagements with Prince Yan, conception had been inevitable.
But announcing the news required perfect timing, location, and occasion.
Had her pregnancy been discovered within Prince Yan’s estate, the news would’ve spread no further. After all, the outside world cared little about a minor concubine’s condition. Pregnant women were hardly rare in the capital—Shen Wei would’ve been just one among many.
The primary consort could’ve easily orchestrated a miscarriage, brushing it off with excuses—*she slipped, she ate something harmful*—and no one would’ve questioned it.
But now that the emperor and Empress knew, everything changed.
Shen Wei had gained an extra layer of protection.
Even if the consort wished her harm, she would now hesitate, mindful of the Empress’s watchful eye. Should Shen Wei lose the child, the Empress—or even the emperor—might demand answers, leaving the consort with no way to evade responsibility.
Out of fear for Their Majesties’ displeasure, the consort wouldn’t dare act against her.
Thus, after careful deliberation, Shen Wei had chosen Princess Zhao Yang’s birthday banquet as the stage to reveal her pregnancy.
Her original plan had been to feign illness when summoned by the Empress, using the moment to disclose her condition.
But she hadn’t expected the emperor to attend.
Adjusting swiftly, Shen Wei opted to sit beside Prince Yan and "fall ill" there. After all, "vomiting" in the presence of the realm’s most exalted figures would’ve been unseemly, bordering on disrespect.
"Second Brother, pregnant women are fragile. Who knows—your little concubine might trip one day, and the child could be lost just like that," Prince Heng remarked airily, his sharp eyes flicking toward Shen Wei.
He was certain her "pregnancy reveal" today had been premeditated.
This little vixen never acted without purpose.
Prince Yan’s expression darkened, his gaze knife-sharp. "Worry about yourself."
Prince Heng shrugged, lazily retorting, "Second Brother, I’m only offering friendly advice. No need to be so harsh."
The guests held their tongues.
The rivalry between Prince Yan and Prince Heng was well-known, and none dared interfere.
Finally, the emperor, seated at the head of the hall, interjected, "Today is Zhao Yang’s birthday. Do not overstep, both of you."
The princes fell silent, Prince Yan lowering his head to take a sip of wine.
The emperor then turned to Prince Heng, his tone chastising yet indulgent. "Yuanli, your harem is sizable, yet not a single child? You should learn from your elder brother—do your part to expand the royal lineage."
Shen Wei, eavesdropping, was surprised. Prince Heng, with his reputation for philandering and a house full of wives and concubines, had no children?
Could it be... he was impotent?
Prince Heng replied with disinterest, "Father, it seems I’m fated to be a lone soul. Such is destiny."
The words bordered on insolence—*lone soul* hinted at aspirations for the throne.
Yet the emperor showed no reproach, only a resigned chuckle, his expression fond and tolerant. As though Prince Heng’s every word and deed were pardoned by paternal indulgence.
As the banquet neared its end, the emperor set down his wine cup and addressed Zhao Yang warmly, "Zhao Yang, you are no longer a child. On this birthday of yours, make any request—your father shall grant it."
The hall fell silent.
The emperor’s words carried implication.
By noting *you are no longer a child*, he was hinting—*it is time to marry.*
The Emperor had only one daughter, Zhao Yang, whom he cherished dearly, holding her in the palm of his hand. Today, as long as Zhao Yang spoke up to request an arranged marriage, the Emperor would undoubtedly grant her wish without hesitation.
Zhao Yang's beautiful eyes sparkled like stars as she said, "Once Your Majesty gives his word, a true gentleman never goes back on his promise!"
Yan Yunting's fingers, clasping the porcelain wine cup, stiffened abruptly. He knew—Zhao Yang had been fond of him since childhood.
