Weimo stood at the very end of the line of consorts, her ears tickled pleasantly by the occasional gentle breeze.
Noble Consort Xian was the mother of the Second Prince, Zhao Cheng; Imperial Noble Consort De was the mother of the Third Prince, Zhao Yan; and the Empress was the mother of the First Prince, Zhao Yuanxi. These three pairs of mothers and sons had long been locked in open and covert struggles, as irreconcilable as fire and water.
However, the Second Prince Zhao Cheng was frail and could not compare to Zhao Yan. Over the years, Noble Consort Xian had clung to the Empress to reap the profits of a third party, growing ever more ruthless in her efforts to drive the Imperial Noble Consort and her son to ruin.
"This daughter-in-law... merely..." Su Wanzhao was still kneeling on the cold brick floor, while the Empress stroked the phoenix-patterned golden bracelet on her wrist, pretending not to see her.
"Merely what?" Noble Consort Xian let out a light sneer. "If Her Majesty the Empress were possessed of a venomous heart like yours, she should have long ago drowned the biological princes of us all in the lotus pond of the Imperial Garden!"
"It was Wanzhao who misspoke yesterday..." Su Wanzhao shuddered, pulling out a five-grain embroidered sachet and holding it high above her head. "Last night, the Prince already reprimanded me. Wanzhao stayed awake the entire night to embroider this sachet, hoping to beg for the Empress's forgiveness."
The five-grain embroidered sachet was drawn from folk custom; whenever disaster struck, the common people would sew this sachet to pray to the heavens. Every single stitch represented the suffering and hopes of the common folk, and no one dared to trample upon it lightly.
The Empress stroked the "harvest" character embroidered on the sachet using the overlapping stitch technique—this was the pattern for the Praying to Heaven Decree that she had personally decreed.
"Zhaozhao has the mulberry fields and agriculture close to her heart, which truly befits the jade lineage of the Princess Consort Jinlan." The Empress reached out a hand toward Su Wanzhao. "Come quickly and sit by this Empress."
The fingertips of Noble Consort Xian tightened around her teacup, cursing the old fox of an Empress inwardly for always hiding behind a false mask to play the good person.
She glanced at Imperial Noble Consort De, who sat opposite without uttering a word, and said with utter contempt, "Why is Elder Sister De not making a sound? Could it be that upon hearing of the tragic death of the body-inspection matrons, even the root of your tongue tastes bitter?"
Wei Xiao had sent silver probes to Renming Palace last night, and along with them came two amber bracelets strung through with laryngeal bones. The Empress had ordered the silver probes destroyed, but had straightaway sent the bracelets directly to Imperial Noble Consort De's Yanfu Palace.
Imperial Noble Consort De lowered her gaze, refusing to meet her eyes. "Little Sister jests. Those old servants died suddenly of a pestilence, and this Palace is currently fretting over what to give the new bride to calm her nerves."
Wei Xiao had already secretly reported the origins of those silver probes, but at this moment she only hated that the timing was not yet right to tear away the Empress's hypocritical facade.
"Is that so?" Noble Consort Xian giggled, her hair ornaments shaking and trembling. "Sister is so protective of her daughter-in-law. Could it be that using this sachet to beg for mercy this time was also done at Sister's explicit instruction?"
Imperial Noble Consort De swept a cold glance over her. "Little Sister ought to focus more of her thoughts on Cheng'er. This Palace hears that he vomited blood again the day before yesterday."
"You!..." Noble Consort Xian's most sensitive spot was when others brought up the Second Prince's frail health; Imperial Noble Consort De was twisting the knife straight into her heart.
"Enough." The Empress waved her hand at the opportune moment, cutting off Noble Consort Xian's words. "Why make a scene in front of the juniors?"
Noble Consort Xian rose with unhurried grace, retracted her protective nail guards, and pulled the sachet into her palm, suddenly flipping it over to the back. "This concubine is simply worried that the great righteousness of agriculture might be defiled and exploited. Your Majesty must inspect it closely."
"The family of General Su has been utterly loyal for generations; how could Zhaozhao ever do such a thing of saying one thing while meaning another..."
Before she could finish, the Empress's pupils contracted sharply.
The front of the sachet was soft and smooth like willow down, but the back resembled iron-strokes and silver-hooks. Although the embroidery technique was the same, the person who worked on it later had clearly been trying hard to imitate the style, and at the turns and endings, an extra half-strand of silver thread had been hooked in.
Furthermore, the latter's technique possessed a distinct charm; had it not been intentionally concealed, such embroidery work could have served as a model for all.
The Empress murmured in a low voice, "This was clearly crafted by two different hands..."
The embroidered sachet bore the prayers of all the common people; neither its beginning nor its ending could have its hands changed mid-way, or it would inevitably provoke the wrath of the divine gods and bring down disaster.
Su Wanzhao's clenched fingertips trembled violently. "How could that be... Wanzhao stitched every single thread with her own hands..."
"The beginning of the stitches resembles a child's casual graffiti, yet the ending possesses the grand style of a master..." The Empress flew into a magnificent rage, flinging the sachet heavily onto the floor. "A fine job of every single stitch! Su Wanzhao, are you trying to have the divine gods bring their wrath down upon Qiwu!"
Su Wanzhao collapsed onto the ground. She had clearly checked it carefully; those stitches were extremely similar, so how could it have been discovered by the Empress so easily?
Weimo stepped forward and knelt in the hall. "I beg the Empress to forgive us! The Princess Consort was sincere, toiling bitterly through the night until the third watch..."
Before she could finish, the sound of metal weapons clashing against jade suddenly pierced the air from outside the hall.
"This son pays his respects to Mother Empress."
Zhao Yan's boot heels crushed the scattered mess all over the floor, a scent of peppermint drifting into the hall with the breeze. He bent down to pick up the sachet, his fingertips lingering and tracing the protruding end of the "harvest" character.
"The overlapping stitches on the back were added by this son last night while holding Wanzhao's hand. This cannot be considered changing hands."
The Empress slammed her armrest and rebuked angrily, "Absurd! When did you learn embroidery?"
"Has Mother Empress forgotten?" Zhao Yan tied the sachet around his waist. "When I went south to govern the floods at age twelve, I learned it from the river workers."
He abruptly removed his outer robe and draped it over Su Wanzhao's shoulders. "Wanzhao feared her crude technique would disgrace agriculture, and it was this son who insisted on adding those few stitches."
Noble Consort Xian's red-lacquered nail guards dug deeply into her palms. "Prince Jinlan is truly tender-hearted..."
"Noble Consort Xian," Zhao Yan turned and smiled lightly, "the wrapped threads on your bright-moon hair ornaments are loose."
His slender fingers reached toward Noble Consort Xian's headdress. Noble Consort Xian felt a sudden tug of pain at her temples, and half a section of severed hair was already caught in Zhao Yan's grip.
A profound silence descended within the hall.
The Empress stared at that severed hair, remembering the night the late Emperor passed away—this wolf cub had similarly smiled just like this while snapping the neck of a rebellious official.
"If there is nothing else, this son takes his leave."
As they left Renming Palace, they happened to hear the sound of a porcelain cup shattering from within the hall. A golden-topped carriage was waiting outside, the horses letting out uneasy puffs of breath.
Su Wanzhao practically tumbled into the carriage.
The dark outer robe that Zhao Yan had draped over her shoulders moments before slid slowly down, revealing the moon-white under-dress soaked entirely through with cold sweat.
"Your Highness..." Her voice trembled with every thread of sound as she spoke.
Zhao Yan reclined lazily against the soft golden-silk pillow, his fingers toying with that five-grain embroidered sachet. The back must have been embroidered by that maid; earlier, he had simply assumed that the servant had deliberately altered the stitches to frame her, but looking at it closely now, the degree of similarity between the two sides could truly be considered miraculous.
The Empress was not wrong; the embroidery work on the reverse side indeed possessed the style of a master.
He swept a glance toward the figure kneeling in the corner. "Get up."
Weimo pressed her forehead heavily to the floor. "Last night, this maid feared the Princess Consort would wear herself out through the night, so she finished the work herself and almost harmed the Princess Consort. I beg the Prince to punish me."
"What does this have to do with you?" Zhao Yan tossed the sachet casually onto the floor. "Did the Princess Consort not know that the hands working on an embroidered sachet cannot be changed? Since she could not endure the late night, she might as well not have embroidered it at all."
The carriage shaft suddenly rolled over a bump on the palace path, and Su Wanzhao threw herself forward to kneel before Zhao Yan's knees. "This concubine has always been most obedient to Your Highness's words..."
Zhao Yan hooked her tear-stained chin upward. "Does that somehow make it this Prince's fault?"
"N-no, it is not..."
Su Wanzhao stammered in a panic, trying to explain, but Zhao Yan had already withdrawn his hand of his own accord. "Today, the Princess Consort truly makes this Prince think of the quails in the southern border's prisoner-of-war camp, frightened completely out of their wits."
"What..." Even in her dreams, Su Wanzhao would never have imagined that Zhao Yan would compare her to a quail.
The man pulled a corner of the beaded curtain string aside. The carriage was currently passing by Noble Consort Chen's former residence, and the two words "family discipline" caused the veins on his temples to throb violently once more.
Involuntarily, his gaze drifted toward the calm and collected figure in the corner. "With such a nerve, how can you be inferior to a lowly maid?"