A Concubine's Competitive Life in the Prince's Household-Chapter 109

The Princess Consort’s heart skipped a beat.

This clear thought, like wildfire, blazed uncontrollably in her mind.

“Your Highness, you look pale—were you frightened?” The concerned voice of Granny Liu snapped the Princess Consort out of her thoughts.

As if waking from a dream, the Princess Consort hastily fingered her prayer beads, filled with remorse. She was Prince Yan’s lawfully wedded wife—how could such a terrible notion cross her mind? She actually wished for Prince Yan’s death?

*Amitabha, what a sin.*

Suppressing the horrifying thought, she felt deep regret, her fingers flying over the beads as she walked, though her steps unconsciously slowed.

“Princess Consort, should we inform the two young masters at the Imperial College about His Highness’s assassination attempt?” Granny Liu asked.

The Princess Consort continued counting her beads. “No. Prince Yan is blessed by the heavens and will surely recover safely. Cheng Ke and Cheng Zhen must focus on their studies without distraction.”

The carriage was already prepared, and the Princess Consort swiftly departed for the Ministry of War to visit him. At least in the eyes of the world, she had to play the role of a devoted wife, upholding her image as the virtuous mistress of the estate.

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The Princess Consort left through the main gate.

Just as she stepped out, a tearful voice called from behind her: “Mother! Mother, I want to see Father too!”

Walls have ears, and even eight-year-old Li Yao had heard that Prince Yan’s fate hung in the balance. Worried, she lifted her skirts and ran to the gate, catching the Princess Consort just as she was leaving.

Li Yao wanted to accompany her.

The Princess Consort replied impatiently, “Stay at home.”

Li Yao’s eyes welled with tears. “But—”

Frowning in displeasure, the Princess Consort snapped, “Your brothers are studying hard at the Imperial College. Are you going to put on a show of filial piety in front of your father? Who are you trying to impress?”

Li Yao stood frozen, her small face blank.

She only wanted to see her father—to know he was safe. How had it become “putting on a show” in her mother’s eyes?

Ignoring her, the Princess Consort swept away with a flick of her sleeve.

Rubbing the tears from her eyes, Li Yao, though only eight, had keenly noticed her mother’s growing distance and coldness ever since her food poisoning.

*It’s as if Mother doesn’t want me anymore.*

Her heart heavy, Li Yao lowered her head and trudged back toward her chambers. Along the way, she spotted Shen Wei sitting in the front courtyard’s pavilion with Nanny Rong and Cai Lian. Shen Wei wore an expression of “anxious” anticipation, glancing repeatedly toward the gate.

Li Yao hurried over, tilting her head up. “Aunt Shen, are you waiting for Father too?”

Shen Wei nodded. “Yes.”

Eyes brimming with tears, Li Yao plopped onto a stone stool beside her. “Aunt Shen, I’ll wait with you. I won’t rest until I see Father return safely.”

And so, the two waited in the front courtyard.

By midday, Prince Yan had yet to appear.

With the Princess Consort gone and the prince’s fate uncertain, the estate buzzed with nervous whispers. The steward, Fu Gui, was run ragged—maintaining order while preparing for the prince’s convalescence: medicine, clean bedding, fresh clothes, and herbs.

Ordinarily, the mistress of the house would oversee such arrangements, but the Princess Consort had left without a single instruction.

Fu Gui had no choice but to shoulder the burden, scrambling to manage everything.

Spotting Shen Wei and Li Yao in the pavilion as he passed, he hurried over to greet them. Noticing the sweat on his brow, Shen Wei asked, “Steward Fu, where are you off to?”

Wiping his forehead, Fu Gui replied, “This old servant is sending someone to fetch detoxifying tonics. The imperial physicians just delivered the prescription. Ah, there’s so much to do!”

Shen Wei offered, “Nanny Rong in my courtyard is quite experienced. Why not let the Glass Pavilion handle the preparations for His Highness’s recovery?”

Ever diligent, Nanny Rong immediately volunteered. “Steward Fu, leave this to me. You handle the rest—no need to worry. With His Highness injured, the estate’s gossip alone needs your attention.”

Knowing Nanny Rong’s competence, Fu Gui gratefully bowed. “Many thanks, Mistress Shen!”

Mopping his brow again, he added kindly, “It’s hot out here, Mistress Shen. Given your condition, you ought to rest in your quarters.”

Sighing, Shen Wei gazed sorrowfully toward the gate. “I can’t visit the Ministry of War, so I’ll wait here until His Highness returns. Only then will I be at peace.”

Fu Gui was moved. *Adversity reveals true hearts.* While the other concubines ignored the crisis and the Princess Consort went through the motions, Shen Wei alone remained devoted.

Bowing again, he excused himself to attend to other matters.

The afternoon sun was mild. Shen Wei fanned herself, sipped tea, and periodically glanced toward the gate.

Li Yao’s elderly nanny finally found her in the pavilion. “Young Miss, it’s too warm out here. Come back inside to wait.”

Li Yao shook her head firmly. “I’ll stay with Aunt Shen until Father returns.”

The nanny studied Shen Wei—her weary expression, her slightly swollen eyes—and saw the same worry reflected there.

As a servant sent by the empress to care for Li Yao, the nanny couldn’t help but admire Shen Wei. Though a mere concubine, her devotion was undeniable. *His Highness is fortunate to have such a woman.*

Leaving Li Yao in Shen Wei’s care, the nanny departed with peace of mind.

...

Ministry of War, Council Hall.

After the assassination attempt on Prince Yan and Prince Heng, the hall had been converted into a makeshift infirmary. Imperial physicians swarmed the two princes.

Prince Yan, struck in the left shoulder by a poisoned arrow, remained unconscious.

Prince Heng, grazed in the thigh, was awake and alert.

Thanks to swift treatment, the toxin in Prince Yan’s wound had been purged, leaving no lasting harm—though he had yet to wake.

The Crown Prince arrived, his cold gaze fixed on Prince Heng. “Your doing?”

Prince Heng shrugged helplessly. “Elder Brother, I swear it wasn’t me! Yes, I’d love for Second Brother to die—but I’d only strike when he’s alone.”

He felt genuinely wronged.

That day, he and Prince Yan had been en route to the Ministry of War when, out of nowhere, two arrows shot toward Prince Yan—ignoring Prince Heng entirely.

Stranger still, the usually formidable Prince Yan had been hit effortlessly, and his elite guards had failed to react.

Prince Heng strongly suspected the attack was staged. After all, seizing three cities from the Yue Kingdom required justification—what better pretext than an assassination attempt by Yue agents?

Worse, Prince Yan might have planned this to kill two birds with one stone: justifying war *and* framing Prince Heng.

With Prince Yan injured and Prince Heng unharmed, suspicion would naturally fall on him.

Realizing this immediately, Prince Heng had snatched up a discarded poisoned arrow and stabbed his own thigh—creating the illusion that he, too, had been targeted.

Thus, he cleared his name.

Prince Heng swayed the white jade fan in his hand, his phoenix eyes glinting with resentment as he remarked with biting sarcasm, "With Yue Kingdom assassins targeting two Qing State princes, our great Qing State now has an even more justified pretext to rally its troops, *hm*?"