Seeing the princess smile .The eldest lady of the Wei family finally allowed herself a moment of reprieve. Her beating heart slowed once the topic was skillfully diverted. Wiping the sweat from her temples with a delicate embroidered handkerchief, as she exhaled a long, relieved sigh.
She remained silent afterward, content to smile quietly and listen as Princess Yuehua spoke of the fascinating happenings in Yizhou. Though curiosity sparked in many hearts, no one dared ask questions openly, for fear of the repercussions.
Thus, the matter was temporarily set aside.
Within the flower hall, conversation and laughter filled the air, while outside, Madam Xing and her companions were not idle either.
“Princess Yuehua’s fief is in Yizhou, near Jinling City,” Madam Xing whispered, glancing around to ensure they were not overheard. “She has been a widow since the passing of Prince Consort Han—more than twenty years now.”
At the mention of “widowhood,” a fleeting shadow of pain crossed Eldest Sister-in-law Liu’s eyes. But it passed so quickly that few noticed.
“Then this princess must be loyal,” Du Jingyi commented softly. “She clearly shared a deep bond with the late prince.”
Madam Xing scoffed, lowering her voice further. “You’re overthinking it! Everyone in Yizhou knows that any young man of reasonable appearance dares not step outside uninvited. Should the princess take a fancy to him, he will be summoned directly to her palace—perhaps as her lover.”
“Over the years, she may have favored seven or eight hundred men, if not a thousand,” she added, her tone half jesting, half ominous.
Du Jingyi’s eyes widened in disbelief. Even the emperor’s selection of concubines was less extravagant. How could a princess wield such power?
“Does no one in Yizhou question this?”
“Question it?” Madam Xing said with a hint of bitterness. “What would that accomplish? Those young men were all sent home within a few days, intact—no missing limbs. They were told the princess admired their talents and invited them to stay for a mere two days. Who could object?”
“But,” she continued, her voice dropping lower, “those who returned home either succumbed to anger or refused ever to leave their households again. Some even leveraged the princess’s favor to climb the social ladder, securing minor official positions in Yizhou. No one has ever successfully challenged her.”
Her words made the situation painfully clear. Imperial authority was overwhelming. Even a successful complaint carried little weight; the complainers themselves might vanish mysteriously, executed in secret to preserve the royal family’s reputation. The common folk seethed with frustration, yet they were utterly powerless. As most young men did not return home at all—either enjoying the pleasures of the princess’s mansion or disappearing without a trace.
Xueniang pressed a hand to her chest, suppressing the nausea she felt as she tried to feign indifference. “Men claim to be heartless,” she murmured, “but this princess makes them look tame in comparison.”
“Xueniang, mind your words,” Eldest Sister-in-law Liu warned in a whisper. Xueniang immediately clamped her mouth shut, glancing anxiously around. Only when she was certain no one was watching did she relax. Some matters, she realized, were best left to Madam Xing.
Patting Liu shi’s shoulder with a reassuring smile, Madam Xing said, “Very well. I’ll say no more, so as not to frighten Xiao Ba.”
“Thank you, Auntie, for your thoughtfulness,” Xueniang replied gratefully. Than the conversation shifted, and the topic of Princess Yuehua was quietly dropped.
Du Jingyi, however, could not look away. Princess Yuehua sat at the head of the table, surrounded by her companions. Her smile was gentle and courteous, befitting an elder of grace and wisdom. Yet beneath that serene exterior lay a woman capable of astonishing ruthlessness.
It is really difficult,as Du Jingyi reflected, to distinguish the human from the specter behind such masks. Her prejudice against the royal children of the Daxing Dynasty had deepened further more.
As the flower hall bustled with life, but the front hall was no less lively. The Princess of Fu had arrived, and Prince Fu himself was, naturally, present. With him came his heir, the fortunate young Prince Xie Daoen.
Daoen was fourteen or fifteen, bearing a striking resemblance to his father, Prince Fu. Yet his features were marred by a bloated frame and a face pocked with deep, blood-red scars—signs of inflammation or disease—which made him appear older than he was. His demeanor was gloomy, as if attending a funeral rather than a celebration.
Raised amidst indulgence and privilege, the boy had developed a notorious temper. Even at his young age, he treated those around him with disdain, and servants bore the brunt of his cruelty. Rumors of his conduct would have spread far and wide if Prince Fu and his wife had not managed to keep them contained.
From his behaviour it is evident that the boy had no desire to attend this gathering. As he had planned to meet other princes and visit the city’s courtesans today, but his parents had compelled his presence for his granfather’s birthday . So here he was suppressing his anger, he looked upon the attendees with haughty disinterest.
“Prince Fu has arrived! Prince Fu has arrived!” the herald announced, drawing everyone’s attention.
The majority of guests were court officials, yet the presence of Prince Fu and his heir naturally commanded respect among them. Shang Yukuan, As Prince Fu’s father-in-law, was the first to step forward, speaking with formal courtesy.
“We are honored to have Prince Fu and the shizi to grace us with your presence,” Shang Yukuan said.
Prince Fu smiled, returning the compliment with practiced politeness. “You are too formal, Duke. Today is a family celebration. As my father-in-law, you need not be so ceremonious.”
He then turned to his son. “En’er, come greet your grandfather.”
Xie Daoen gave a perfunctory glance and muttered, “Greetings, Grandfather.”
Shang Yukuan, who had limited contact with this grandson, understood his temperament and did not take offense. Smiling, he replied, “Very well. Go in and rest for a while. The banquet will commence shortly.”
“Yes,” the boy replied, indifferently.
As Shang Yukuan escorted Prince Fu and his son inside, Wei Taiwei and Deputy Commander Wei observed from nearby. Meanwhile, Shang Ji, positioned slightly apart, regarded the newcomers with thinly veiled contempt. Xing Zhao, a man of sharp tongue, snorted derisively.
“He’s like a fat pig,” he muttered. “Hardly any worse than your fifth uncle.”
“Why aren’t the other relatives here? Aren’t they usually present for such occasions?”
Shang Ji shrugged. “The fifth uncle’s household has fallen ill and relocated to a farm outside the city. The third uncle’s family is modest, preferring seclusion over mingling with dignitaries, so they remain at home.”
Xing Zhao’s expression twisted in surprise, incredulous at the foresight and restraint of the absent relatives. Though he had not lived in the Duke’s mansion for long, he could gauge there nature quickly, even from brief encounters with the third and fifth branches.