Jiang Zhaorong had always been a woman of few words. She had once given birth to a daughter, but tragically, the child passed away not long after birth. Since then, she had fallen out of favor.

  Her animosity toward Li Fei stemmed from the fact that they had entered the pace at the same time. Back then, both had been favored, but after conceiving, Li Fei had quickly surpassed her in His Majesty’s affections. While Jiang Zhaorong mourned the loss of her child, Li Fei, on the other hand, rose in rank due to the emperor’s favor.

  Because of this, the two had always been at odds, and His Majesty had reprimanded Jiang Zhaorong multiple times because of it.

  And Jiang Zhaorong hadn’t conceived again in the past few years, which only deepened the animosity between her and Li Fei. In the end, it was all old grievances, and their mutual dislike had only grown stronger over time.

  “What’s even stranger is that the empress has been well for quite some time now, yet she has never once mentioned reciming the authority to manage the harem. Instead of bringing it up, she keeps telling the newcomers to come to me if they need anything. Hmph.” Guifei sneered.

  “There’s no point in her bringing it up anyway. She wouldn’t be able to handle it. If you ask me, Sister, your only real disadvantage is not having a prince. If you give birth to one soon, forget managing the harem—even the empress's seat would be within your grasp,” Rong Fei said.

  Guifei fell silent. Of course, she knew that. But...

  Just thinking about it made her angry. “How is that bastard doing these days?”

  She was referring to the eldest prince, who had been sent to live in the imperial residence outside the pace.

  “What else? His Majesty won’t bring him back, but he’s still his own flesh and blood. Of course, he’s being cared for,” Rong Fei said with equal disdain.

  Both of them had suffered at the hands of the te Empress Shen, enduring schemes that had left them struggling to conceive.

  If not for His Majesty’s protection and care, who knew what would have happened to them?

  “That bastard cannot be allowed to live,” Guifei muttered, her brows furrowing. “I haven’t dared to make a move these past few years, fearing His Majesty might catch wind of it and turn us into the vilins. What a shame that the empress is so useless.”

  In the past, they had repeatedly nudged Wumian to take action against that child.

  In fact, the reason Wumian fell ill in the first pce was connected to this matter. She hadn’t been able to extend her reach into the imperial residence to harm the eldest prince, but she had certainly harbored the intention.

  When she attempted to pce people inside the residence, His Majesty caught her and reprimanded her severely, forcing her to kneel in the rain as punishment. That was how she ended up falling ill, and ultimately, how she lost her life.

  Of course, to save face for the empress, Ying Qionglou never let the matter be known to the outside world. That night, Wumian had knelt in the courtyard of Fengyi Pace, unseen by all.

  The original Wumian had been deeply preoccupied with the eldest prince’s existence. She wasn’t intelligent, nor did she understand Empress Shen’s true nature.

  She simply thought: The te empress’s son is a direct threat to me.

  That was why she so easily allowed Guifei and the others to manipute her into taking action. Unfortunately, she cked the competence to pull it off…

  Unlike Wumian, Guifei and her faction had their own vested interests, but their hatred was also deeply personal. The Shen cn was long gone, and Empress Shen had been dead for years. Yet, their ruined health could never be restored—so in their eyes, the son she left behind could not be allowed to live either.

  Speaking of princes, Wumian happened to run into one while strolling through the imperial garden.

  But it wasn’t one of the consorts’ children.

  It was a son of the te emperor.

  The previous emperor had passed away in his prime, leaving behind a total of eight sons.

  His Majesty was the eldest, followed by the third, fourth, fifth, seventh, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth princes.

  (Transtor Xiaobai: I'm having a headache remembering all the consorts...please don't have me remember all these names too T_T)

  There were also seven princesses. Four had already been married off, while three remained in the pace.

  The one Wumian encountered was the youngest of them all—the Twelfth Prince, Ying Qiongyu.

  This child was so unfortunate that he had been born after his father’s passing—an emperor’s posthumous son.

  He was nine years old this year, but his fate had been cruel. The moment he was born, his mother died from postpartum hemorrhage, and his father was already gone.

  While the empress dowager and His Majesty had ensured he was well taken care of, he was not their own flesh and blood.

  Moreover, the te emperor had passed away so suddenly, and the new emperor had ascended the throne in a rush. In those early years, where would he have found the time to care for a posthumous younger brother? At most, he had left instructions for the pace attendants to look after him properly.

  Then came the rebellion.

  Amidst the chaos of quelling the uprising and securing his rule, by the time His Majesty and the empress dowager finally had the leisure to turn their attention to the child, they realized that the twelfth prince… couldn’t speak properly.

  It wasn’t that he was mute—he simply struggled with speech. His words came slowly, his actions were sluggish, and he often appeared dazed and dull-witted.

  It was only in the past two years that his condition had improved somewhat with proper education.

  Still, he couldn’t speak quickly. At nine years old, whenever he tried to talk too fast, his words became jumbled.

  Now, upon seeing Wumian, the eunuch beside him quickly prompted, “Twelfth Prince, greet the empress.”

  The child hesitated for a moment before slowly uttering, “Greet… royal sister-in-w…”

  The previous Wumian had never thought highly of this child, though she had never met him in person. This was their first private encounter.

  “No need for formalities. Why are you wearing so many yers? Isn’t it hot?” Though it was still te spring, today was undeniably warm.

  The Twelfth Prince grinned. Exactly! It was so hot! But his nanny insisted on dressing him this way.

  He stepped forward. “Nanny… afraid I’ll get cold… so… made me wear more.”

  “Is that so? Well, since it’s already noon, you can take off a yer now and put it back on in the evening. If you get too hot, you might fall ill,” Wumian patiently advised.

  In her past life, she never had a younger brother, but she did have an adorable little cousin—clumsy and endearing, much like the child in front of her.

  The Twelfth Prince nodded and left.

  Surprisingly, just fifteen minutes ter, he returned. “I… changed.”

  Wumian couldn’t help but ugh. “Good. Want to look at flowers together?”

  The Twelfth Prince nodded, beaming at her. “Yes.”

  “Royal sister-in-w… what’s… your favorite flower?” he asked, carefully forming his words.

  Wumian held her fan against her forehead, thinking. “That’s hard to say. I think all flowers are lovely. But if I had to choose… then white roses.”

  “White… roses? I… I don’t think I’ve seen them before.” The Twelfth Prince frowned in thought.

  “Right? There aren’t many white flowers in the pace. What about you? What’s your favorite?”

  “I… I like crabapple blossoms,” the Twelfth Prince decred with certainty.

  “Crabapple blossoms—great choice! I think they’re beautiful, too.”

  “But… but you just… said you like… roses,” the Twelfth Prince eyed her suspiciously, as if she were contradicting herself.

  Wumian chuckled and patted his head. “I did say I like white roses best if I had to pick. But I never said I don’t like crabapple blossoms, right?”

  “This isn’t some game where you can only pick one. I can have a favorite, but I can also have things I really like, and things I kind of like. Isn’t that right?”

  The Twelfth Prince thought about it for a while before nodding. “Then… my favorite is… crabapple blossoms.”

  “Mhm, you have excellent taste.” Wumian affirmed.

  The Twelfth Prince blushed. No one from the noble households had ever given him such clear and genuine praise before.

  He wasn’t actually a fool—he just knew that whenever he encountered other consorts, after exchanging a few words, they would quickly lose interest and stop talking to him.

  Today, however, he seemed particurly eager to talk. “Royal brother… said… Mother Empress… birthday. Her birthday is coming… must give a gift. Royal sister-in-w… what will you give?”

  “Ah…” Wumian was momentarily stunned.

  “Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager’s birthday is in April,” Linshui reminded her.

  “Oh, right. I haven’t prepared a gift yet.”

  “I… will paint. I… live in the pace… have nothing of value… only… my filial heart.” The Twelfth Prince decred with certainty.