The other princes of the te Emperor, though a few years older, knew their pce. They also understood that now was not the time to rush into the spotlight.

  Once the banquet began, Wumian casually gnced over at the three princes seated at one table.

  Hmm.

  The Eldest Prince sat upright and composed. He had a fine appearance and a good build, though a bit too thin. He looked cool and aloof, not one for conversation.

  The Second Prince was difficult to describe in just a few words. He was a handsome child, but also sickly and likely spoiled. He couldn't sit still, constantly fidgeting and shifting around. It seemed that his health had recently improved; although he was still not robust, he was well enough to attend the banquet, which was a positive sign. However, his constant grimacing, twisting movements, and the way he pushed his wetnurse's hands away were notable.

  Sigh. Wumian thought to herself, Maybe it’s because I didn’t give birth to him, but I really can’t bring myself to like him.

  The Third Prince was much younger. Though he wasn’t sitting properly either, that was understandable for someone his age. His bright eyes sparkled with curiosity. Supported by his wetnurse, he sat there observing everyone, quite adorably.

  Yes—other people’s children are best enjoyed when they’re cute.

  Ying Qionglou called to the Empress once, but Wumian didn’t hear. “Wumian?”

  At that, she turned around. “Hm? Did Your Majesty call me?”

  Everyone at the banquet heard the Emperor call the Empress by name, and many were visibly surprised. This was the first time. Clearly, His Majesty now treated the Empress quite differently.

  “What were you looking at?” Ying Qionglou asked, amused.

  “Oh, nothing,” Wumian replied as she straightened in her seat. “Did Your Majesty need something?”

  Before answering, Ying Qionglou gnced in the same direction Wumian had been looking. Naturally, he saw his three sons.

  He sighed inwardly, unsure of what to say.

  “Nothing in particur. You just seemed lost in thought, so I called your name,” he said.

  Wumian gave him a puzzled look but didn’t press the matter.

  “Your Majesty,” the Empress Dowager chimed in, “I heard you made tofu soup for Duke An? He said it was so delicious he couldn’t stop praising it. Word even reached the pace again a few days ago.”

  “Oh? He liked it that much?” Wumian ughed. “Should we have the imperial kitchens prepare it too? It’s a simple recipe. I can have someone bring them the instructions.”

  “Yes, yes—go ahead,” the Empress Dowager said, waving her hand with a smile.

  Wumian sent Dukang to pass along the recipe.

  By the time most of the dishes were served, the tofu soup had also arrived.

  The Empress Dowager took the first taste and immediately nodded in approval. “No wonder Duke An likes it—this soup really is excellent.”

  “Crabs are in season now,” Wumian said. “If you add crab roe and crab meat, the fvor is even richer. But crab is cooling in nature—not everyone can eat it.”

  “You’re making me crave it,” the Empress Dowager chuckled. “I’ll have the kitchen prepare it for lunch tomorrow. Quick, serve everyone a taste now.”

  Whether the Imperial Ladies truly enjoyed it or were just being polite, they all praised the soup.

  Wumian ate quietly, knowing that while the Empress Dowager was interested in the food, she was also rewarding her for the work she'd done these past few months.

  At the very least, Wumian had been fulfilling her role as a model Empress tely.

  Not long ago, the Empress Dowager had scolded her as a way to indirectly scold the Emperor. So this was also a form of compensation.

  Praising the Empress’s kitchen was, essentially, praising the Empress herself.

  Outsiders would interpret this as a sign of her filial piety.

  Those in power didn’t need to praise others directly. Wumian was already the Empress. All the Empress Dowager had to do was offer praise in small, subtle ways, and others would draw their own conclusions.

  In traditional society, subtlety was a virtue. Say things too pinly, and you’d be considered vulgar. So everything had to be expressed through hints and gestures.

  That said… crabs really were in season.

  First the females, then the males. Delicious either way.

  When the py began, Ying Qionglou almost dozed off.

  His mind was filled with court affairs. Once he’d mentally sorted through everything, he gnced at Wumian and thought, It’s fine if Mother likes this sort of thing... but even the Empress?

  What exactly was so entertaining about that singsong, wailing performance?

  But clearly, she wasn’t pretending. She genuinely understood the performance—she could even chat about it with the Empress Dowager, back and forth, in lively discussion.

  Once the py ended, Ying Qionglou forced himself not to yawn.

  Tonight, naturally, he would accompany the Empress back to Fengyi Pace. They passed through the imperial garden, and thankfully, there were no foolish interlopers this time.

  “I’m curious,” Ying Qionglou asked, “when did you start liking opera?”

  “I’m not sure. I just suddenly did,” Wumian smiled. “If Your Majesty truly dislikes it, next time, after the banquet, you can just leave. The Empress Dowager wouldn’t mind.”

  “Mm. I won’t accompany you next time. The moment I hear those voices, I just want to sleep.”

  “What was that final act about, anyway?”

  Wumian chuckled. “It was about a victorious general who declined a marriage proposal from the prime minister, choosing instead to marry the girl he was betrothed to since childhood. The prime minister then offered a hundred taels of gold to the fiancée to get her to break the engagement. The general refused and ended up marrying both women, treating them equally.”

  Ying Qionglou frowned. “That plot doesn’t make sense. A prime minister already holds immense power—why would he insist his daughter marry a general who just won a single battle? And offering gold to buy off a peasant girl’s engagement?”

  “The prime minister’s noble daughter, on equal footing with a commoner girl?” he scoffed.

  Wumian ughed. “As far as I know, most opera scripts are written by men.” So really, these fantasies are just men writing wish-fulfillment.

  “Even more ridiculous.”

  “Let it go, Your Majesty. The good ones I’ll invite back. The bad ones won’t get a second performance. Just let them do what they want. Life is like a py, and a py is like life. Whether it’s nonsense or truth, it’s all in how you interpret it,” Wumian said as she stumbled slightly, grabbing his arm to steady herself before letting go again.

  “Life is like a py, and a py is like life…” Ying Qionglou repeated. “So the Empress believes living is just acting a part?”

  Wumian let out a soft ugh, her voice drifting through the night air of the imperial garden.“What do you think, Your Majesty?”

  “Then, if life is like a py, what about tonight’s performance? Do you think something like that could happen in real life?” Ying Qionglou was intrigued.

  “It’s hard to say.” Wumian shook her head. “Really… who’s to say?”

  “No matter,” Ying Qionglou said. “Just speak freely—consider it a discussion of theater.” He reached out and took her hand, keeping her steady. The path here was lined with cobblestones—easy to trip on.

  “The story seems illogical at first gnce,” Wumian began. “But that’s only because Your Majesty is thinking within the context of your dynasty. What if the setting were a chaotic era? Say, a time when the so-called Prime Minister appeared powerful, second only to the Emperor—but in truth, his position was unstable. Perhaps the Emperor was young, or dim-witted, with a regent in power. Or maybe the Prime Minister had offended the Emperor somehow. Even if punishment wasn’t immediate, it would come eventually.”

  “Now, let’s say this victorious general had just returned from a major campaign. He’s the new rising star, deeply trusted by the Emperor. Wouldn’t forming an alliance with him bring countless benefits?”

  And as for the commoner girl, did “equal status” truly mean equal?

  In the end, there could only be one mistress of the household.

  Whether she was a Prime Minister’s daughter or a vilge girl, once they entered the general’s residence, the servants would know exactly whose orders to follow.

  Perhaps the general was sincere and righteous, but even he wouldn’t be able to defy the weight of societal norms.