Doctor Wang stepped forward and bowed deeply before Du Jingyi, his manner deferential and precise. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, then turned toward her with respectful poise. “This old minister will take the Madam’s pulse.”
Du Jingyi took one look at him and understood immediately — this Doctor Wang must be a trusted confidant of Empress Guo. With that assurance, she calmed herself and extended her hand. The doctor sat opposite her, his expression grave as he placed his fingers gently on her wrist. He shifted between her left and right hand several times, his brows gradually easing. Finally, his stern face broke into a smile of delight.
“Congratulations, Madam,” he announced, rising to bow. “You are more than two months with child.”
Empress Guo’s eyes brightened at once. “How is the child? Is everything well?” she asked, her tone carrying both genuine worry and an irrepressible joy.
Doctor Wang folded his hands respectfully. “Your Majesty, rest assured. The Madam’s constitution is sound, and so is the child. It is only that she has been somewhat anxious lately. This old minister will prescribe a mild tonic to calm her nerves and protect the fetus. If taken for half a month, it will bring visible improvement.”
Empress Guo nodded with relief. “Then I must trouble Doctor Wang for his attentiveness.” She paused, then added with quiet authority, “From this day forward, Doctor Wang shall go to the General’s Mansion every ten days on my behalf to examine the General’s wife personally. With you overseeing her care, I can be at ease.”
Doctor Wang bowed once more. “Your Majesty’s command shall be obeyed.”
Though Du Jingyi did not fully understand why Empress Guo seemed so deeply concerned about her unborn child, she accepted the kindness with composure. At her side, Madam Xing’s gaze wavered briefly, a flicker of unspoken emotion crossing her eyes. Such a fine woman, she thought, yet she has fallen into the perilous web of the imperial family, where love and loyalty are often crushed beneath ambition.
When Doctor Wang had taken his leave to prepare the medicine, the chamber grew quiet again. The faint fragrance of sandalwood lingered in the air.
Empress Guo beckoned Du Jingyi closer with a gentle wave. “Take care of the baby,” she said softly. “Do not trouble yourself with anything else. You are the only hope of the Gu family.”
Du Jingyi inclined her head in acknowledgment, though a shadow of doubt stirred within her heart. The only hope of the Gu family? she wondered. After all, her child would bear the surname Shang — while connected to the Gu family through her mother’s line, that connection could hardly make her child their sole heir.
Madam Xing, however, understood the unspoken implication. Her heart sank slightly as she began to suspect what Empress Guo might be planning.
After a few more polite words, Madam Xing guided Du Jingyi out of the palace. The attendants helped them into carriages — Madam Xing and Du Jingyi sharing one, while the eldest sister-in-law Liu and the eighth sister Xueniang rode in another.
As the palace gates closed behind them, a collective sense of relief filled the air. The Empress’s words had been kind, and for now, that was enough. Yet Madam Xing, watching Du Jingyi’s thoughtful expression, gave a small, wistful smile.
“There are some things,” she began quietly, “that I should not speak of. But since you will learn of them sooner or later, it matters little if you hear them now.”
Du Jingyi turned to her, puzzled but attentive.
“The Empress,” Madam Xing continued, “is the legitimate daughter of the Guo Prime Minister’s household. Yet when she was born, Prime Minister Guo had not yet attained the influence he holds today. He was then but a follower, accompanying Emperor Kaizong on campaign — moving constantly from place to place, struggling just to make ends meet. Managing the household was beyond his reach.”
She sighed softly, the corners of her mouth curved in bittersweet remembrance. “But my Gu family was different. We were an old aristocratic family in Jinling City. Because Prime Minister Guo and my uncle were close friends, when the Empress was around three or four years old, she and several other Guo children were sent to our home to be raised by my uncle’s mother. That is why my cousin and I have such a close bond with the Empress — she grew up within the Gu family.”
Du Jingyi’s expression softened in realization. “So that’s why the Empress always mentions the Gu family whenever she sees me,” she murmured. “There’s such a deep connection.”
Madam Xing smiled faintly. “Yes. Those were the happiest years. More than a dozen of us children grew up together in that grand old mansion — carefree, laughing, bound by the kind of affection that only youth can hold. Even after we married and went our separate ways, our friendship never waned.”
Her eyes glistened as she recalled the past. The warm light filtering into the carriage softened her features, and for a moment, Du Jingyi could almost see the carefree young girls they once were. But she sensed there was more to the story than fond memories.
Indeed, Madam Xing’s tone soon shifted, her voice quieter, carrying the weight of something long buried. “But fate,” she whispered, “is rarely kind. The Empress and my eldest cousin from the Gu family were childhood sweethearts — deeply in love. If not for what happened later, she would have become the head daughter-in-law of the Gu household.”
Du Jingyi’s heart stirred. So her earlier suspicions were correct. Given the Gu family’s prominence in Jinling City, the Guo family must have sought to entrust their daughter there, hoping to secure a powerful alliance.
“The Empress’s constant protection of the Gu family…” Du Jingyi thought aloud, “it comes from that bond of old affection. But what exactly happened between them?”
Madam Xing sighed again, her eyes dark with sorrow. “When both reached marriageable age, our families naturally began to discuss their betrothal. Just when it seemed settled, my uncle and Prime Minister Guo returned from court one day bearing two announcements — the Empress and my cousin’s marriages had already been arranged.”
Du Jingyi frowned slightly. “Could it have been because my grandfather once saved my maternal grandfather’s life?”
Her guess was nearly on point. Madam Xing nodded gravely. “Yes. During the wars that ended the old dynasty, Emperor Kaizong and my great-uncle were besieged in Binzhou. Had it not been for Duke Shang and Prime Minister Guo, who led their troops to break the siege, the Daxing Dynasty would not exist today. My great-uncle nearly died protecting the Emperor — Duke Shang carried him on his back for an entire day and night before finding a physician to save him. Prime Minister Guo too was gravely wounded, remaining behind to shield the Emperor’s retreat.”
She paused, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “Out of gratitude, Emperor Kaizong and Prime Minister Guo swore an alliance — their children would be joined in marriage. Thus the Empress was betrothed to the Eastern Palace and became Crown Princess, while Duke Shang’s heir was promised a daughter of the Gu family.”
Du Jingyi’s eyes widened slightly. “So, my grandfather arranged the marriage between your cousin and my uncle’s daughter in gratitude for saving his life.”
Madam Xing inclined her head. “Exactly. But neither of those marriages brought happiness. My cousin Gu Yunhe was fortunate — she had no attachment to anyone else then, and at first, she lived peacefully after marrying into the Duke Shang household. Had misfortune not struck later, she would never have died so young, even with the Gu family’s support behind her.”
Her voice trembled faintly as she went on. “But the Empress… the Queen Mother we know now… she wept until she could weep no more. Yet for the sake of her family’s safety, and for the honor of the Gu name, she swallowed her grief, donned the wedding robe, and took the path set for her.”
For a long moment, the carriage was silent save for the creak of its wheels.
“In the three years that followed,” Madam Xing said softly, “my eldest cousin fell into melancholy. Only when the then-Crown Princess gave birth to a princess did he finally yield to his family’s will and marry. But his heart was never the same.”
Her gaze drifted out the window, lost in distant memory. “More than ten years ago, when the Gu family met its end in Cezhou, the whole realm mourned. When the Empress received the news, she fell ill for years. Only in the past two has she begun to recover.”
Madam Xing’s voice faltered. She would not say more — some sorrows were too old, too deep to revisit. Yet Du Jingyi, intelligent and observant as she was, had already pieced together the rest. The past, it seemed, was never truly past.