A Concubine's Competitive Life in the Prince's Household-Chapter 110
The Crown Prince spoke impassively, "Yuan Li, your leg injury hasn't healed yet. You should return to your mansion and rest properly."
Prince Heng scoffed, "Rest? How can I rest? In a couple of days, I’ll be paying a visit to Prince Yan’s Mansion to show off our brotherly affection."
Prince Yan had tried to frame him for the assassination attempt, so Prince Heng was determined to flaunt his "concern" by visiting.
He would play the part of the devoted younger brother, even if it was all a facade.
If he couldn’t kill Prince Yan, he could at least make his life miserable.
As Prince Heng glanced to the side, he noticed the Princess of Yan arriving late. He greeted her with exaggerated cheer, "Ah, Sister-in-law, you’ve finally arrived."
The Princess Consort dipped her head slightly and then bowed to the Crown Prince. In public, she maintained the image of a virtuous wife and mother, her face etched with worry as she hurried toward the room where Prince Yan lay.
Prince Heng deliberately raised his voice, his tone dripping with mock concern, "Oh, Sister-in-law, there’s no need to rush. Brother Yan’s wound has been treated, and he’ll wake in a few hours. Even if he *did* die, it wouldn’t be so bad for you—Cheng Ke could inherit his title, wouldn’t that be wonderful?"
The Princess Consort nearly stumbled, the prayer beads hidden in her sleeve almost slipping from her grasp.
The Crown Prince narrowed his eyes, warning, "Yuan Li, enough with your nonsense!"
Prince Heng clicked his tongue, his sharp phoenix eyes studying the Princess Consort’s face. To his amusement, she looked almost... guilty, as if he had exposed a hidden thought.
*Could it be that she actually considered the possibility of "inheritance"?*
Prince Heng smirked. It seemed that if he ever wanted to bring Prince Yan down, his wife might be the perfect weak point.
Today’s leg injury wasn’t sustained in vain.
With a flick of his white jade fan, Prince Heng leaned on his guard’s arm and limped conspicuously through the Ministry of War, making sure every official saw his wounded leg before hobbling away.
The Crown Prince stood beneath the eaves, watching Prince Heng’s retreating figure for a long moment before sighing silently and stepping inside to check on Prince Yan’s condition.
---
Inside the room, Prince Yan remained unconscious. His muscular torso was bare, his shoulder wrapped in white bandages, his lips pale.
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The Princess Consort’s nose stung, tears spilling before she could stop them.
They *had* loved each other once. Seeing him like this, her chest ached with a dull, throbbing pain.
She intended to stay by his side until he woke, hoping he’d see her first—perhaps it would move him, rekindle their fading affection.
But before an hour had passed, Nanny Qian arrived on the Empress’s orders.
"Your Highness," Nanny Qian said, "Prince Yan is out of danger, and waiting here serves no purpose. The Empress instructs you to return to Prince Yan’s Mansion to manage affairs. Guards will escort His Highness back once he wakes."
With Prince Yan injured, the household would be in turmoil.
The mistress of the house was needed to steady the servants and prepare for his recovery.
"How can I abandon my husband in his time of need?" The Princess Consort frowned, resentment simmering beneath her composed exterior.
But Nanny Qian remained unmoved. "Her Majesty’s orders are not to be disobeyed. She acts in your best interest."
The Princess Consort clenched the prayer beads in her sleeve.
After a long pause, she forced a smile. "If that is Her Majesty’s will, then this humble daughter-in-law shall obey."
Bitter and unwilling, she returned to the mansion alone.
Yet upon arrival, she found everything running as smoothly as ever—servants going about their duties, no sign of chaos.
Her resentment toward the Empress deepened. The household didn’t *need* her to maintain order.
Frustrated, she retreated to Kunyu Courtyard, kneeling before the family shrine to burn incense. The sandalwood smoke curled around her as she tried to calm her frayed nerves.
"Your Highness," Granny Liu entered, "Steward Fu Gui requests an audience."
The Princess Consort added three more sticks of incense to the burner. "What does he want now?"
"Steward Fu Gui reports that the autumn harvest is promising, and he seeks your guidance on tenant shares. Additionally, the sweet shop in the capital has been losing money. He asks whether to close it."
A headache pulsed behind her temples.
She *had* learned household management before marriage, but after bearing a child, her focus had shifted entirely to motherhood and prayer. The endless minutiae of estate affairs was beyond her patience.
"Let Fu Gui handle it himself. He’s the steward—it’s his duty to ease his master’s burdens," she snapped.
Granny Liu relayed the orders, leaving Fu Gui sighing in exhaustion.
He had already disciplined gossiping servants and rushed between fields and shops all day. Now, when he sought the Princess Consort’s input, she refused to lift a finger.
A grim thought crossed his mind: *One of these days, I’ll drop dead from overwork.* But resigning would betray Prince Yan’s past kindness.
---
At the Ministry of War, Prince Yan didn’t wake until dusk.
The Crown Prince, buried in paperwork, coughed intermittently, his energy flagging.
"Brother," Prince Yan rasped, struggling upright.
The Crown Prince set down his brush, relieved to see color returning to his brother’s face. "Yuan Jing," he chided quietly, "you promised me you *wouldn’t* get hurt."
Lately, the Yue Kingdom had grown bolder, even enslaving Qing State’s border citizens. Prince Yan and the Crown Prince planned to seize three Yue border cities to crush their arrogance.
But ministers allied with Prince Heng opposed the campaign. So, Prince Yan staged his own "assassination" by Yue agents to silence them.
The Crown Prince had expected a mere pretense—not an actual arrow to the shoulder.
"It wasn’t the assassin’s fault," Prince Yan admitted. "I was distracted. Brother, fetch me paper and brush."
The Crown Prince obliged.
Prince Yan scrawled three characters: **[Li Leyou]**.
The Crown Prince frowned. "Who is Li Leyou?" He couldn’t recall any official by that name.
A proud smile tugged at Prince Yan’s lips. "Earlier, Yuan Li and I passed the eastern lotus pond. Watching the fish play in the water, so carefree, it struck me—if Shen Wei bears a daughter, we should name her *Leyou* (Joyful Wanderer)."
Since deciding to name Shen Wei’s unborn child, inspiration struck him often.
He had already picked three names for a son: **Cheng De**, **Cheng Ze**, and **Cheng Zong**.
Today, he’d thought of a girl’s name: **Leyou**.
If a better one came to mind later, he’d add it to his little book.
That stray arrow? He *could* have dodged it—if he hadn’t been lost in thought.
The Crown Prince: *"..."*
The Crown Prince pressed his fingers to his forehead. "Since you're injured, return to your mansion to recuperate for a few days. Pretend to be gravely ill. The strategy for attacking the three cities of the Yue Kingdom has been finalized, and His Majesty's decree is being delivered to the border by urgent courier."
Prince Yan summoned his Tiger Guards and began his journey back to Prince Yan's Mansion.
The golden hues of the setting sun bathed Prince Yan's Mansion, gilding the two solemn stone lions guarding its entrance.
Though Prince Yan's injury was not serious—he could walk unaided—he deliberately allowed two Tiger Guards to support him, crafting the illusion of severe injury to silence the murmurs at court.
As soon as he stepped into the mansion, Prince Yan was met with two crisp, eager calls:
"Father!"
"My Prince!"
