"Yang Qianhu, you're here about what happened last night?"
Yang Cheng spoke calmly.
"That's right."
Yang Xi nodded. "This humble official discovered eight Martial Sovereign corpses in the city. Such a thing is utterly outrageous."
Yang Cheng's tone remained even. "Yang Qianhu, those men were Martial Sovereigns from beyond the realm who came to assassinate this prince. If I killed them in defense, does that mean I violated the royal law?"
"Does Your Highness take me for some rigid official with no sense of reason?"
Yang Xi replied, "What I care about isn't the death of those eight Martial Sovereigns. It's that your battle destroyed a large number of buildings, causing many citizens to suffer fear and loss."
Yang Cheng fell silent for a moment. "That was indeed my oversight. I'll have people sent immediately to compensate the commoners for their losses."
In truth, he had assumed the local officials of Zhen Nan Pass would handle such matters, so he hadn't involved himself. But hearing Yang Xi's words, he realized that had been negligent of him.
"Other than that," Yang Xi continued, "as I said before, a wise man does not stand under a collapsing wall. You won this time, but what if there had been a mistake?"
Yang Cheng looked straight at her. "Are you worried about me?"
Yang Xi's expression faltered in panic. "Your Highness, I'm just a small captain. How could I have the right to worry about you?"
Yang Cheng said simply, "Second Sister."
Yang Xi's body froze.
Yang Cheng sighed. "You should return to the Imperial Palace. Consort Xian must miss you very much."
Yang Xi's eyes reddened. "My mother… she's still alive?"
"Mother acted out of necessity back then," Yang Cheng said softly. "She would never go so far as to take your mother's life."
He felt a quiet relief in his heart. Fortunately, he had already sent Lin Shu's messenger pigeon ahead with word, or Consort Xian might truly have died.
By now, Yang Cheng had come to understand his mother better.
Though the Empress treated him with care and affection, she was cold and detached toward almost everyone else.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
Yang Xi's voice carried faint resentment. "For all I know, once I return, you'll have my mother and me locked away in the Cold Palace again—or worse."
Yang Cheng said nothing.
After a while, Yang Xi calmed herself. She knew her words had been spoken in anger.
Pressing her lips together, she finally said, "I'll go back to Fengtian with you."
"You're not afraid I'll harm you?" Yang Cheng asked.
Yang Xi shook her head. "With your strength, if you wanted to deal with me, you wouldn't need to go to such trouble. Besides, when my mother was sent to the Cold Palace, you hadn't even been born yet. Blaming you for that would be unfair."
"Then let's return to Fengtian."
Yang Cheng smiled.
That same day, the Golden Dragon Chariot set off.
Before Yun Jinghuai had left, he had stationed a thousand-man army to escort Yang Cheng back to the capital.
At the same time—
In Fengtian City, within the Imperial Palace.
At the Emerald Water Palace—
This was one of the palace's infamous Cold Palaces.
Consort Xian lived there.
The surroundings were desolate and quiet. Only a single palace maid remained to tend to her.
Once, Consort Xian had been a woman of breathtaking beauty. Now, she was frail and haggard, her face filled with sorrow and despair.
For years, she had clung to a faint hope—that one day Yun Liyue might lose the Emperor's favor, giving her a chance to rise again.
But instead, Yun Liyue only grew more radiant, her position as Empress ever more unshakable.
Even her son had become the world-famous Crown Prince.
Consort Xian ran her fingers along the edge of a dagger.
For days now, she had felt the urge to end everything, though she could never quite bring herself to do it.
But she knew this couldn't last forever. One of these days, if her despair grew just a bit heavier, she might finally drive the blade into her heart.
Tap… tap… tap…
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Consort Xian didn't react.
She had heard footsteps outside before—each time, she had foolishly hoped it might be His Majesty.
But every time, it had only been those old enemies among the imperial consorts, coming to gloat and humiliate her.
Creak.
The door opened.
This time, several people entered.
Consort Xian finally sensed that something was wrong.
She lifted her head—and the moment her gaze landed on that face, her entire body froze.
Even if that face turned to ashes, she would still recognize it in an instant.
"Yun Liyue… it's you!"
Her breathing quickened.
It had been twelve years since she last saw Yun Liyue.
But now, facing her again, Consort Xian realized she didn't even dare to hate.
The long years of humiliation and despair had already ground down all the fire in her heart.
"How dare you call Her Majesty the Empress by name!"
Hu Po's sharp voice cut through the air.
"It's fine."
Yun Liyue waved a hand, dismissing everyone else.
Soon, only the two of them remained in the room.
Yun Liyue's gaze was calm, detached, her expression unreadable.
To her, Consort Xian's life or death was meaningless.
She had only come because Cheng'er had sent word through Lin Shu, saying that Consort Xian's daughter—Yang Xi—was a woman of great potential.
For the sake of letting Cheng'er recruit that talent without trouble, Yun Liyue had lowered herself to personally visit the woman she once despised.
Besides, she had seen too many who'd fallen lower than Consort Xian. Her miserable state stirred not even the faintest ripple of emotion.
"Your Majesty the Empress," Consort Xian said bitterly, forcing a weak smile, "did you come to see me make a fool of myself?"
She truly didn't dare anger Yun Liyue too much.
After all, she still hadn't found the courage to end her life.
And if she offended Yun Liyue now, there were countless ways the Empress could make her wish for death instead.
"Consort Xian," Yun Liyue said quietly, "you and I have been entangled in resentment for fifteen years. It's been twelve years since you were sent to the Cold Palace."
She sighed lightly. "The past is like mist, fleeting and meaningless. Seeing you like this today, I do feel a touch of sorrow."
"Consort Xian, if I were to give you a chance to leave this place… what would you do?"
Consort Xian blinked, thinking she must have misheard.
Yun Liyue stood there serenely, her tone so calm it didn't sound like a jest.
Realizing what those words meant, Consort Xian suddenly fell to her knees, trembling with emotion.
"If Your Majesty truly allows this guilty concubine to leave, I am willing to repay your grace with my life—to face fire and blades if you command it!"
"There's no need for that," Yun Liyue said softly. "I don't want you to do anything for me. Just live properly."
With that, she turned and left.
Afterward, Consort Xian was restless and uneasy, her heart torn between hope and dread.
She feared Yun Liyue had merely come to mock her, to raise her hopes only to crush them.
But even though that seemed impossible—after all, an Empress wouldn't waste her time on such petty cruelty—she still couldn't stop herself from worrying.
She wanted, desperately, to believe it was true.
The next day, an imperial decree from the Empress Dowager arrived.
"The Empress, virtuous and kind, moved by the sentiment of past bonds, has humbly pleaded before Us. Today, We restore He Rou to the rank of Imperial Concubine of Zhaoyi and grant her residence in the Western Warm Pavilion…"
Consort Xian's eyes filled with tears, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
"Your Ladyship!"
Her only maidservant burst into sobs of joy.
Twelve years—twelve long, unbearable years of humiliation and loneliness—had finally come to an end.
The inner palace erupted in commotion.
No one could have imagined that Consort Xian—the woman everyone had long written off—could one day rise again.
After being moved to the Western Warm Pavilion, Consort He immediately began dressing and grooming herself.
She was forty years old now, and over a decade without cultivation had left her skin dry and her hair streaked with white. Wrinkles etched her face, and no matter how she dressed, she still looked like a woman in her fifties.
Then, a servant arrived from the Empress, delivering a single peach.
A Flat Peach of Immortality.
After eating it, Consort He's complexion visibly changed—the pallor and age fading as youth returned to her face.
Within a single day, she looked ten years younger.
Though she was far from her former beauty, with a bit of makeup she now resembled a graceful woman in her thirties.
Yun Liyue's gift left her overwhelmed with gratitude.
And of course, she couldn't simply do nothing in return.
After asking around the palace, she soon learned that the current Zhuang Zhaoyi—once Noble Consort Zhuang—had offended the Empress and fallen out of favor.
Consort He's eyes glinted faintly.
It seemed the heavens had finally given her a path to repay this newfound grace.