Two years ago, when Yagu reached the age at which palace maids were released, Consort Xian had taken charge of her departure, allowing her to leave the palace and return home. At that time, Consort Xu had already set her sights on Xiaonan Pavilion and had sent gifts several times to support Yagu. After leaving the palace, Yagu had no immediate plans, so Consort Xu provided her with silver to help her settle in the outskirts of the imperial capital and establish a livelihood.
Yagu had opened a small shop in the city, selling pastries. She often sent her goods into the palace, first delivering them to Consort Xu’s chambers, and then having them secretly passed on to Li Fuxiang in Xiaonan Pavilion.
Even the candied melon that the Fifth Prince had given to Gao Yuexing was made by Yagu.
Disregarding the late hour, the Emperor immediately dispatched men to visit Yagu’s shop and bring her back to the palace.
—
That evening, Zheng Qianye escorted the two children, thoroughly worn out from their day of play, back to Qianqing Palace. As soon as Li Fuxiang entered the room, he saw a familiar figure kneeling in the inner chamber, bowing deeply to him.
Li Fuxiang froze.
Rarely did he show his emotions, but this time, he couldn’t suppress them. He stepped forward, tugged at Yagu’s sleeve, and then dove into her arms.
For Li Fuxiang, Yagu had raised him for seven years before being forced to leave him when he was still growing up. They had been separated for two years. Their relationship was not just one of master and servant but one of mutual reliance forged within the confines of Xiaonan Pavilion.
Yagu had exchanged her coarse cloth garments for more refined attire. The Emperor had given her time to clean up, and now she wore her hair in a formal style, dressed in a crimson round-collared palace robe. She looked almost indistinguishable from the noblewomen Gao Yuexing remembered.
Li Fuxiang pointed at Gao Yuexing, nestled against Yagu’s legs, and happily gestured, “She is my wife!”
Gao Yuexing’s face burned as if her most private thoughts had been exposed to the world.
But Yagu merely glanced at her in mild surprise before breaking into a warm, motherly smile.
The intimate bond between Li Fuxiang and Yagu was so natural that it stung Gao Yuexing’s eyes a little. Still, she sensibly held back her tears.
But she wasn’t the only one feeling emotional—another person couldn’t hold it in.
The Emperor, holding a book in his hands, appeared calm, but his gaze kept drifting toward them.
Watching Li Fuxiang circle around Yagu like a little tail, the Emperor unwittingly crumpled one page of the book in his grip.
Gao Yuexing felt not the least bit sorry for the Emperor. In fact, she even felt a faint sense of schadenfreude.
Serves him right. Who told him to have such ill intentions?
Women have a way of dredging up old grievances, and it can be lethal.
All the discontent Gao Yuexing felt toward the Emperor surged into her mind at once.
When the East Palace was being renovated, Xiaonan Pavilion had been expanded into Crabapple Embankment. The Emperor personally took her to oversee the construction, pointing at the barren riverbanks and saying he wanted them entirely planted with crabapple trees. He even deliberately asked if she knew about the Prince of Xiang’s Haitang Palace on the outskirts of the capital, where the blooming flowers were an unparalleled sight. Every word struck a sore spot in Gao Yuexing’s heart.
Another time, while preparing a birthday tribute for the Emperor’s Longevity Festival, she offered a Su embroidery tapestry titled Harmony of Rivers and Seas. Gao Yuexing’s embroidery skills, passed down from her mother, were impeccable, yet the Emperor had to find fault. He commented that the Prince of Xiang, being eccentric since childhood, lacked the aesthetic sense to appreciate fine embroidery. This brought to mind the crabapple pattern, crooked and clumsy, on that infamous handkerchief. The memory nearly made her cough up blood.
—
Such incidents were countless, and the Emperor undoubtedly contributed to Gao Yuexing’s later years of melancholy.
As past events resurfaced in her mind, Gao Yuexing grew angrier with every step, her teeth clenching audibly.
—
That night, when it was time to sleep, Li Fuxiang refused to settle down on his own. To make it easier to care for him, Yagu had placed a small couch in the outer room of the warm chamber. Li Fuxiang lay on it briefly before picking up his pillow and crawling onto Yagu’s bed.
Gao Yuexing, still awake, heard the commotion and quietly got up. Peering through the door, she saw the scene unfold.
The Emperor, also not asleep, appeared at the door at almost the same time.
He gestured for Gao Yuexing to keep quiet, and the two stood in silent understanding for a moment. Then the Emperor lifted the curtain, went in, and carefully carried Li Fuxiang out.
The Emperor’s movements were gentle, not waking Li Fuxiang.
But once he had Li Fuxiang in his arms, he didn’t return him to Yagu’s bed. Instead, before Gao Yuexing and Yagu’s astonished eyes, he carried Li Fuxiang to his own dragon bed!
Gao Yuexing wasn’t surprised at all—she suspected the Emperor had wanted to do this for some time.
Sniffing disdainfully, she turned to head back to bed, but Yagu beckoned her over. Gao Yuexing hesitated for a moment before walking over.
Yagu scooped her up, placing her on the small couch. Perhaps worried she might get cold, Yagu wrapped her snugly in a thin blanket.
Only Gao Yuexing’s small head peeked out, her round eyes, with large, dark pupils and bright whites, making her look inexplicably innocent.
No one could dislike a quiet, pretty, and obedient little girl.
In the stillness, they began to communicate with gestures.
Yagu: “You know sign language?”
Gao Yuexing: “A little.”
Yagu: “The young prince mistook you for his ‘wife.’ That’s my fault for not teaching him properly. If it has offended you, I sincerely apologize.”
Gao Yuexing found her words intriguing and asked, “How did you teach him?”
Yagu explained, “When he was very young, I told him the story of Feng Qiu Huang (The Phoenix Seeks the Phoenix). He loved that story deeply and took it to heart. He wanted a wife of his own, so he pestered me endlessly with questions. Eventually, I got tired of his persistence and lied to him, saying that if he behaved well, the heavens would send him a beautiful little girl as his wife.”
What a coincidence.
Gao Yuexing didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She hadn’t expected such a prelude to the situation.
Yagu, of course, didn’t know that Li Fuxiang hadn’t intentionally overstepped. Instead, it was Gao Yuexing who had boldly approached him and introduced herself as his “wife.”
Could it be that the simple-minded Li Fuxiang had truly believed from the start that she was the wife bestowed upon him by the heavens?
Gao Yuexing tossed and turned in bed that night, unable to sleep. She kept thinking about it over and over until she finally let out a sigh.
It was as if heaven, earth, and fate had conspired together—their bond had been destined from the very beginning.
—
The next morning, Li Fuxiang slept until the sun was high in the sky. The Emperor, having returned from court, came in to wake him. Li Fuxiang looked at the bed he was on, his face filled with confusion, unable to understand why he had changed beds in his sleep.
Yagu, catching the Emperor’s signal, stepped forward to dress him.
Still half-asleep, Li Fuxiang instinctively wrapped his arms around Yagu, almost clinging to her. It was an incredibly intimate gesture.
Before Gao Yuexing could react, the Emperor was already jealous again.
He dismissed Yagu with a wave of his hand and took Li Fuxiang into his own arms. The sudden movement startled Li Fuxiang awake, and he sat motionless on the bed like a finely crafted wooden doll, allowing the Emperor to handle him as he pleased.
The Emperor couldn’t hide his disappointment.
Gao Yuexing stifled her laughter, managing to hold it in until after breakfast. Only when she was outside, clutching the pillar in front of Wenhua Hall, did she let out a suppressed giggle for what felt like half the day, finally feeling satisfied.
—
Because of Li Fuxiang’s love of sleeping in, they arrived late. Grand Tutor Liu, who was already teaching, cast them a glance but showed neither anger nor annoyance and simply continued his lecture. Gao Yuexing gave the tutor a respectful bow before quickly pulling Li Fuxiang to sit down.
She suspected that Li Fuxiang might not understand what was being taught.
Gao Yuexing opened a book and placed it in front of him.
The book she brought today was the very set that Grand Tutor Liu had gifted her recently, complete with his personal annotations on the pages.
Gao Yuexing observed Li Fuxiang carefully and was surprised to find that he was indeed looking at the book. Her heart filled with joy.
Grand Tutor Liu, too, was watching Li Fuxiang.
Li Fuxiang read slowly, but he was meticulous, going over each word and sentence carefully. Gao Yuexing handed him a sheet of paper and a brush, and he began drawing the complicated terms and phrases he couldn’t understand.
When Grand Tutor Liu saw his handwriting, his brows furrowed.
It was a clear sign of disappointment.
However, no one expected much from him.
The Emperor’s attitude toward Li Fuxiang was obvious—he didn’t care if Li Fuxiang became accomplished or not. As long as he lived a peaceful and joyful life, that was enough. The Emperor, at the height of his power and confidence, believed he could protect him.
To everyone else, a ten-year-old prince who had yet to begin formal education and couldn’t even speak was no better than a useless figure.
But Gao Yuexing stayed resolutely by his side, counting the days, waiting for him to grow up, and hoping he would surprise her one day.
—
“Gao Yuexing!”
Grand Tutor Liu stood before her, holding a ruler.
Gao Yuexing’s heart sank. Uh-oh.
Her inattentiveness had drawn the tutor’s ire. Obediently, she admitted her fault and accepted her punishment, placing her palms on the book.
The tutor, mindful of her young age, delivered three light taps with the ruler. The sound was loud, but the force was gentle, leaving only a faint tingling sensation on her hands.
“Grand Tutor, this student understands her mistake,” Gao Yuexing said earnestly.
Grand Tutor Liu, keeping a stern expression, walked away.
Gao Yuexing rubbed her small hands and looked up, only to catch Li Fuxiang’s concerned gaze fixed on her hands. She wanted to reassure him that it didn’t hurt but stopped herself. Instead, she decided to instill a proper understanding in him—that slacking off in studies deserved punishment.
She hardened her resolve, feigned a pained expression, and straightened her back, focusing intently on her book without sparing him another glance.
After leaving the small world of Xiaonan Pavilion, Li Fuxiang’s most direct impressions of the outside world came from his eyes.
He silently observed the people around him, whether they were of noble or humble status. To him, everything was new and unfamiliar. All these new experiences poured into his mind, naturally forming his own unique understanding of the world.
When he saw Gao Yuexing sitting properly and reading a book, he pondered for a moment and then clumsily imitated her, focusing his attention on the book in front of him.
Gao Yuexing’s eyes were on her book, but her thoughts had drifted far away.
If he really was imitating the people around him, then why did he never attempt to speak?
Unlike a babbling toddler, ten-year-old Li Fuxiang had never uttered a single word, not even a sound.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t—it was that he refused to.
If Gao Yuexing hadn’t heard him coughing during an asthma attack, she might have suspected he was mute.
The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed.
After their lessons, she ran to find Yagu to voice her doubts.
Yagu, who was in the small kitchen making pastries, froze mid-motion, her expression tinged with sorrow. She continued with calm precision, placing the pastry molds into the small steamer, adjusting the heat, and covering them with a bamboo lid. Only then did she lead Gao Yuexing to a clean courtyard.
“He used to make sounds in the beginning.”