As expected, Li Fei expressed no dissatisfaction with the arrangement at Hanliang Pace—or rather, even if she was unhappy, she didn’t dare say so.

  Every time she looked out the window and saw that ugly curtain blocking the view of the damaged side hall, she found it terribly unsightly.

  But all she could do was remain silent.

  After being busy for two days, Ying Qionglou did indeed go to visit Xu Liangyi, just as promised. Xu Liangyi, of course, knew this was thanks to the Empress.

  There was no way she wouldn’t be grateful.

  On this day, Imperial Physician Li came to take Wumian’s pulse.

  “Your Majesty’s health is no longer in serious danger. However, the illness you suffered did sap your vitality. You’ll need long-term nourishment and rest to fully recover,” he said cautiously, worried the Empress might be anxious to conceive.

  Wumian only nodded.

  Indeed, she had nearly lost her life. An illness like that couldn’t possibly be remedied in just a year or two—it would take at least three to five years to truly restore her strength.

  “Linshui, Feixu, stay. Everyone else, step out for now. I have something I’d like to ask the physician in private.”

  A short while ter, only four people remained in the hall.

  “Please feel free to ask anything, Your Majesty,” said Imperial Physician Li. “I will answer everything I know.”

  “It’s nothing much,” Wumian replied. “I just wanted to ask—can Li Fei carry this child to term? I know Imperial Physician Zhang is the one treating her, but as deputy director of the Imperial Medical Bureau, surely you know something.”

  Even when Wumian hadn’t been favored, she was still the Empress. When she fell ill, it wasn’t as if they could assign her just any physician. Only someone second only to the Emperor’s personal doctor would do.

  “This…” Imperial Physician Li hesitated. “Judging from her pulse records, this pregnancy is quite precarious. She suffers from restless sleep and frequent fear and anxiety, which has made the fetus unstable. If she can hold on until the fifth or sixth month without further complications, there’s a chance she could carry the child into the seventh or eighth month.”

  “You mean,” Wumian asked, “even if she makes it past this stage, the child would still be born prematurely?”

  “Yes. It’s not guaranteed, but based on the pulse diagnosis, it’s unlikely the child will reach full term,” Imperial Physician Li said. After a slight pause, he added carefully, “And there’s no telling what other complications might arise.”

  That left plenty of cause for concern.

  Would a premature child survive? What if she reached five or six months but couldn’t carry to seven or eight?

  So many possible problems.

  “Is there anything that can be done to help her deliver a healthy baby?” Wumian asked again.

  Imperial Physician Li was visibly surprised. He had assumed the Empress would not want Li Fei to give birth successfully.

  “Well… it’s difficult to say. This pregnancy began with complications far too early. She’s already on the best supplements avaible, but her body is naturally frail. Add to that her irregur menses and uterine cold—her womb isn’t stable to begin with. Truthfully, she shouldn’t have conceived at this time. A few more years of careful conditioning would’ve made a world of difference.”

  “I see,” Wumian sighed. “If she can safely carry to term, I do hope she’ll give birth to a healthy child.”

  Imperial Physician Li quickly replied, “Your Majesty is truly kind-hearted.”

  Wumian gave him a faint smile. “I’m aware of my condition now. You can return in a few days to check on it again.”

  She instructed the attendants to escort him out—and rewarded him with silver.

  “Your Majesty,” Feixu said quietly once he’d gone, “if Li Fei ends up miscarrying, it won’t have anything to do with us… why worry?”

  “I was just asking,” Wumian said with a soft smile.

  “Whether she miscarries or gives birth, either outcome has its advantages. But I think if Li Fei were to give birth to a healthy prince, that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.”

  “But…”

  “Women in the harem need someone to direct their frustrations toward. Li Fei serves that purpose quite well. If she’s no longer able to bear the weight of that role, wouldn’t I have to shoulder it instead?” She smiled. “It’s not like I’ll be without pace authority forever.”

  “You’re right, Your Majesty. This servant simply can’t think as far ahead as you do. As long as you’re happy, it’s all that matters,” Feixu said.

  Wumian nodded and said no more.

  Aside from Li Fei’s situation, the other matter on her mind was the approaching Mid-Autumn Festival.

  This year’s celebration wasn’t anything special, except that the Eldest Prince had returned to the pace. Still, he remained low-profile and hadn’t yet moved to the Southern Garden.

  From the Empress Dowager’s attitude, it seemed she pnned to have the Eldest Prince remain in Rongkang Pace until the Mid-Autumn Festival passed. He would receive his smallpox inocution there, and only afterward would the move be discussed.

  Then, on the first day of the eighth lunar month, just after the consorts finished their greetings, the Eldest Prince came to pay respects to Wumian.

  She was caught a little off guard but quickly invited him in.

  “This son greets the Empress Mother.”

  “Rise. Come sit,” Wumian said, nodding with a small smile.

  “You’re not in css today?” she asked.

  “Replying to the Empress Mother: Today is the first of the month. Lessons are waived for half the day in the pace—I’ll go in the afternoon,” he replied.

  Wumian nodded. She realized he still didn’t have a name. For now, he could only be referred to as the Eldest Prince.

  It wasn’t because the Emperor didn’t care. Rather, he didn’t dare name him too early.

  Even the Emperor himself hadn’t received a name until after he was made Crown Prince—he was ten years old by then.

  As for the princesses, they only had nicknames, not formal ones.

  The fear was always the same: that they wouldn’t survive to adulthood.

  “Are you getting used to staying in Yining Pace? Once your smallpox inocution is complete and you’ve recovered, you’ll move to the Southern Garden. Have you visited your future residence yet?”

  “I haven’t. But thank you for Your Majesty’s concern—I’m sure it’s very comfortable,” the Eldest Prince replied politely.

  “I didn’t personally prepare it. But once you move in, if there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

  The two of them—an Empress and a child she hadn’t raised—chatted for a while, neither particurly warm nor cold. Eventually, the Eldest Prince took his leave.

  Wumian let out a breath. She really had no idea how to handle him—it was oddly exhausting.

  She had no particur feelings toward this child. She didn’t dislike him, but she didn’t feel any special affection either. Still, the child probably had a great many feelings of his own.

  —

  That night, the Empress Dowager hosted a family banquet along with a theatrical performance. The Emperor, Empress, and all consorts ranked Meiren or above were invited. Li Fei did not attend, as she needed to rest.

  The Eldest, Second, and Third Princes were there, as well as the two princesses. Whether their mothers attended depended on their rank and retionship with the Empress Dowager.

  Even some of the younger princes and princesses born of the te Emperor were present. Yining Pace was lively and full of ughter.

  As soon as the Twelfth Prince saw Wumian, he lit up. After greeting her, he shuffled over and asked, “Royal Sister-in-w… the ink sticks… very good. My study partners… they all like… Royal Sister-in-w… do you have more?”

  He looked quite embarrassed.

  Poor Twelfth Prince—he’d never had anything particurly nice of his own.

  Whatever his brothers had, he had. Whatever they didn’t need, they still received. But he got nothing extra.

  So now, for the first time, he had something that others didn’t. Even his study companions thought it was wonderful. That alone made him proud.

  “I do. I’ll send you more ter. Those sticks st a long time, don’t worry—I’ll send you a whole box,” Wumian said with a smile. She was genuinely pleased. She had put thought into making them, and someone liking them made it all worthwhile.

  “Thank you… Royal Sister-in-w.”

  Ying Qionglou gnced over. “Twelfth Brother, how’s your calligraphy coming along?”

  “My tutor… praised it… said it’s steady,” said Ying Qiongyu earnestly. “Royal Brother.”

  The way he spoke—disjointed and stilted—made Ying Qionglou pause. He hadn’t paid much attention to this younger brother before, but now, watching him speak…

  Well, he supposed it was impressive that the Empress could like someone like him.

  “Then study well.”

  “Yes. Thank you… Royal Brother,” Ying Qiongyu beamed.

  He was still just a child, content as long as someone showed him care. The other princes, born of the te Emperor, exchanged gnces. If even the Twelfth Prince had gained the Empress’s favor, did that mean they might have a chance too?