Perhaps from overthinking, A wu returned to her chamber and fell into a deep sleep, which lasted most of the day.
When she finally woke, she realized she was ill—her body burning with fever, and the Imperial Physician had come several times.
A wu inquired about Emperor Jingxi, learning that he had visited twice, but because of her high fever, the Imperial Physician advised it was best for him to avoid her, lest the illness worsen.
He was currently not at Langhua Hall. Â
The two children had been taken away as well, temporarily housed in Fengtian Hall.
Hearing this, A wu forced herself to sit up and have some porridge.
Since she had only given birth a hundred days prior, her meals were still overseen by both the Imperial Physician and the Emperor himself.
All the necessary provisions were there, but she had little appetite and ate only a little. Â
Afterward, she sent the nursemaids away and lay back on the couch, gazing at the patterns on the huanghuali folding screen—the chiling dragon motif.
What once seemed majestic and noble now looked somewhat sinister. Â
Evening approached.
The sun had begun to set in the west, and the gauze curtains were lowered, blocking the light and dimming the chamber.
She was too tired to have the lamps lit and simply lay there in a daze. Â
At that moment, a strange feeling washed over her, as if this was how her future days would be.
If she fell ill or something worse befell her, she would be abandoned, and the children would be taken away.
Now thinking back, those children never truly belonged to her—they were born for the royal family, the Emperor’s. Â
Lost in these chaotic thoughts, she suddenly heard movement outside—footsteps approaching.
She paid little attention, half-closing her eyes and lazily turning her face into the bolster pillow.
Then the door creaked softly, followed by the sound of soft-soled cloth shoes treading on the floor covering.
A wu sluggishly shifted her body, turning her face to the side and looking askance at the tall, slender figure.
It was Emperor Jingxi.
Seeing him suddenly, she felt unsure how to face him.
He already had his schemes; sooner or later, she knew, she would have to sacrifice herself for him.
So, without revealing her feelings, she twisted her body away and buried her face in the bolster pillow, refusing to look at him.
After all, she was ill, and the strange moods that come with sickness provided a perfect disguise.
Once she recovered, she could afford to throw a tantrum. Â
Eventually, she came to terms with this and faced him with a calm heart.
Emperor Jingxi stepped to her bedside, watching her twist and curl under the brocade quilt like a reluctant little cat, her head pressed into the bolster as she rubbed softly, letting out muffled murmurs.
He couldn’t help but smile. Â
He reached out with his strong, knobby fingers and clasped her waist, lifting her out.
A wu resisted, twisting and struggling, but couldn’t break free, and finally rested weakly against the man’s arms.
Emperor Jingxi held her completely in his embrace, brushing back the hair from her forehead, his hand cool against her skin—no longer burning.
He murmured, “You must be better now.”
Then he carefully examined her.
Perhaps because of her illness, her hair was tousled, her water-like eyes dimmed—both alluring and yet innocent and naïve.
His fingertips caressed her delicate cheek, and tenderness flooded his gaze. “
Why did you fall ill when you were doing so well?” Â
A wu said nothing, only weakly letting out a cat-like hum before resting her head on his arm.
His arms were solid and dependable, giving one the illusion that they could rely on him for a lifetime.
Emperor Jingxi’s voice was warm and gentle: “The weather has cooled these past few days. Some fine new fabrics have arrived, and I’ve already ordered some new clothes to be made for you.”
A wu replied, “I have more clothes than I can wear now. There’s no need for new ones.”
The Emperor chuckled lightly, nuzzling her cheek with his nose.
“What? You don’t want new clothes? I personally checked—the new white fox pelts are exquisite. I’ll have cloaks, capes, and dresses made. I heard gold weaving has fallen out of fashion, so this year it will all be filigree embroidery.” Â
His eyes shone with indulgent affection.
“My Imperial Noble Consort naturally deserves new clothes.” Â
A wu thought bitterly, ‘New or not, if you pass away tomorrow, these clothes will all be burned with you in the tomb.’Â Â
Still, she dared not say so, instead nuzzling her face against his chest and murmuring, “Alright.”
Since Emperor Jingxi entered, A wu had not spoken.
That single “alright” was hoarse, clearly strained from her illness. Â
Emperor Jingxi spoke with pity, “You should be well by now. You shouldn’t have gone to the Daochang with your fever—the crowds and noise probably aggravated you.”
A wu replied, “I won’t go again.”
Yet in her heart, she thought of Brother Ye Han.
The word “sacrifice” had frightened her terribly, and she worried that her odd behavior might arouse the Emperor’s suspicions and lead him to investigate the Daochang.
If that happened, he might become involved and lose his life, making her truly culpable. Â
So she became even more compliant, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist and looking up at him.
“Your Majesty, these past two days A wu has been sick, and you haven’t stayed by A wu’s side… The Second Prince and Second Princess aren’t here either. A wu feels so sad.” Â
She spoke partly truthfully, partly to distract Emperor Jingxi and keep him from suspecting the Daochang incident.
The Emperor paused at her words.
He lifted her, holding her on his lap and cupping her face.
Her pale complexion from illness made her skin seem translucent, her eyes glistening with moisture and a hazy mist.
Such a sight tugged painfully at his heart.
He bent down and kissed her tenderly.
“It’s just been a busy time. We just celebrated the hundred-day milestone for the two children, then had pressing affairs to handle. I was too occupied and neglected you—not because I didn’t want to see you while you were ill.” Â
He hesitated and explained, “I did come when you were sleeping and ordered the nursemaids and female doctors to care for you.”
This small gesture of warmth was naturally welcome to A wu, but hearing those words about sacrifice still unsettled her deeply.
She lazily hugged him, pretending nonchalance.
“Your Majesty, what have you been so busy with lately?” Â
Normally, a consort would never dare ask such a question, but now she was sick.
When one is ill, rules don’t matter so much. Â
—She herself held a small rebellious streak now, no longer caring about courtly decorum.
Emperor Jingxi didn’t think much of it.
He held her with endless tenderness and said, “The southeast coastal regions have been unsettled lately. I must devote more attention there.” Â
Hearing this, A wu recalled what Ye Han had said.
She hugged the Emperor’s waist even tighter and leaned against him.
“Is it the Maritime Bandits? A wu has always been afraid of the Maritime Bandits. Your Majesty must wipe them out to eliminate future troubles.” Â
The Emperor stroked her hair gently and replied, “Those harboring treacherous intentions are even more troublesome than the Maritime Bandits.”
A wu’s mind flickered to the Empress’s recent odd behavior—was he hinting at Lu Yunjian?
Naturally, she wanted to probe further, but the Emperor shifted the topic and asked about her health, no longer mentioning it.
A wu felt frustrated but gave up.
Looking back, old men were still old men.
No matter how much he adored her, those court affairs were always kept tightly hidden from her.
Today’s words were only said because he pitied her frail condition and let down his guard. Â
Emperor Jingxi embraced A wu, voice tender and lingering.
“The Imperial Physician will come again soon. Tell me if you want anything to eat; I’ve ordered the Royal Kitchen of Fengtian Hall to be on call for you. You must take good care of yourself.” Â
Though Langhua Hall lacked its own kitchen, Fengtian Hall always had one prepared.
Everyone there knew that the kitchens served the Emperor but were really at the command of the Imperial Noble Consort. Â
Emperor Jingxi maintained strict eating habits and never ordered extra meals for himself—all was for the Imperial Noble Consort.
They even assigned eunuchs to Langhua Hall to respond to any summons. Â
A wu lazily said, “Mm… I know. A wu will have them make whatever delicious food she wants.”
She deliberately used a slightly coquettish tone.
After this, as if very considerate, she said softly, “Your Majesty, since A wu is still ill, don’t stay too long. You should return early once your duties are done.”
Afraid he might suspect something, she added in a gentle voice, “Your Majesty’s affairs are burdensome. Please take good care of the Dragon Body.”
Emperor Jingxi heard her hoarse but tender voice and felt his heart flutter.
He pressed his forehead against hers, affectionately whispering, “Don’t worry, my health is always good. The two children have already been taken to Fengtian Hall. The Queen Mother wanted them sent to her, but I didn’t allow it.”
His voice was overflowing with love, making A wu’s heart ache.
In moments like this, it was easy to get lost in his warmth, to make excuses for him, to believe he might just be speaking in passing, that perhaps he could never bear to part with her.
Who couldn’t say a few careless words?
She even dreamed she had eight male attendants serving her in turn! Â
If it were just words, everyone would feel better, and she could comfort herself and continue her life as the Imperial Noble Consort.
But… recalling all the past, she felt foolish.
She remembered that night when he was tender and loving, like a devoted husband cherishing his wife, touching her with utmost gentleness.
His infatuation and fondness were genuine. Â
Yet, once she left the couch, he turned cold and indifferent, throwing her aside like a discarded object.
If he hadn’t later discovered her identity by chance, he might never have looked at her again in his life.
One should never trust men easily—especially an old courtier steeped in politics for nearly twenty years.
His heart had long since hardened. Â
Amid her turmoil, her gaze landed on the man’s hand.
The exquisitely carved long fingers still bore the familiar jade thumb ring.
She thought, now she would give him a chance—and herself one as well.
She deliberately wrapped her arms around his fingers.
“Your Majesty, A wu just suddenly remembered she had a dream earlier. She even dreamed of Your Majesty’s jade thumb ring.” Â
Emperor Jingxi smiled at the corner of his lips, affectionately asking, “What did you dream of?”
A wu tilted her head and thought, then said, “I don’t quite remember.”
The Emperor chuckled softly, supporting her neck with one hand, and kissed her gently.
“I’m here by your side. If you can’t remember the dream, then don’t think about it.” Â