Chapter 12 — Old Dreams on the Dragon Bed

What if my father and I orchestrate a collaboration from within and without, turning our backs on darkness to embrace the light? A Lam family sincerely repenting, coupled with someone who is the very spitting image of a departed soul—if we play our cards right, survival may not be entirely beyond our reach. A biting wind howled outside the window as I posed the final question to my father:

Does your daughter resemble the eldest paternal aunt who died so young?

Our eyes locked in a prolonged gaze. At last, my father slapped his knee and laughed. "Resemble? Indeed, you do."

"You and your eldest aunt are remarkably, strikingly alike."

17

My little Hui was born frail, premature and vulnerable. Despite every imaginable precaution, I still could not entirely escape the insidious machinations of that old fox who had survived for decades in the treacherous depths of the inner palace. That fateful night, I truly believed I would not draw another breath. Fortunately, Sovereign Lang Zhao remained seated in the outer chambers the entire time. Through the carved screen, I could faintly hear the steady, rhythmic clicking of the jade prayer beads revolving in his hand. It took me two agonizing days and nights to bring this child into the world. The baby's cry was feeble, sounding precisely like a newborn kitten separated from its mother. As my consciousness drifted into a hazy blur, I vaguely felt him take my hand, his voice trembling as he spoke:

"I almost lost you again."

All the belated remorse that had accumulated in his heart over the decades, combined with the chilling memory of that rain-soaked night in Shaozhou years ago, poured out upon me at last. From this day forward, both I and my son would bask in the glory born from this ancient debt. This was the most important thing of all. The palace of tranquil fragrance swiftly transformed into the most bustling and vibrant corner of the imperial domain. The little imperial prince was not yet a full month old, and the royal physicians decreed that he must be tended to with the utmost meticulousness. Every few days, Sovereign Lang Zhao would come to visit. Sometimes, returning directly from morning court without even changing out of his official robes, he would stride straight to the edge of the cradle just to catch a glimpse. Eventually, he simply had his imperial desk moved into the chambers entirely. While I sat nearby playing softly with the infant, he would review state memorials with a gentle smile playing upon his lips. Back in the court, the third imperial prince was also being entrusted with increasingly greater responsibilities. He assisted Sovereign Lang Zhao in sweeping away the remnants of the disgraced Xia clan, placated the veteran ministers, and personally oversaw the restoration of the imperial palace defense protocols that had been thrown into disarray by the eastern palace faction. Every single task was executed with a flawless precision that left no room for criticism. Even the memorials he submitted were penned in exquisite calligraphy, every single character radiating a devoted desire to share the heavy burdens of his sovereign father. Upon reading one such document, Sovereign Lang Zhao suddenly chuckled softly:

"It seems I bestowed the wrong title upon him."

"That character for virtue appears far more fitting for him than the one for dignity."

I gently shook a small rattle for the baby, pretending not to hear his words. Yet deep within my heart, I understood all too well: a son who possesses an overabundance of virtue and talent does not always bring absolute peace of mind to an aging father. For these past years, Noble Consort Shen had temporarily overseen the operations of the six palaces, managing the inner court with exemplary efficiency. Her rewards and punishments were distinctly meted out, and her ledgers were impeccably organized. She had even thoroughly cleaned up the chaotic mess left behind in the Phoenix Pavilion after its spectacular collapse. Everyone lauded Noble Consort Shen for her exceptional administrative capability within the inner sanctum. The empress was gone, and the once sharp-tongued, aggressive consort of yesteryear had begun cultivating an aura of magnanimity. She knew I was no harmless, flickering candle in the wind, yet she could find no fault in my conduct. I did not contend for palace authority, nor did I ever attempt to usurp her limelight. Even the lavish imperial bounties bestowed upon me by Sovereign Lang Zhao were regularly shared by selecting choice items to be sent directly to her quarters. While she governed the six palaces, I quietly raised my child; outwardly, it appeared as though each person attended strictly to her own domain. Yet they had all miscalculated one crucial factor: Sovereign Lang Zhao was still very much alive and in robust health. With a son whose reputation for virtue grew louder by the day, and a mother who received universal praise from the entire inner court, the tighter this mother-and-son duo shone, the more strained the invisible string within the emperor's heart would become. Whenever I casually mentioned Noble Consort Shen in his presence, I made it a point to highlight only her virtues.

"Noble Consort manages all affairs with consummate thoroughness, and His Highness the Prince of Dignity is both deeply filial and remarkably mild-mannered."

"With the two of them to share Your Majesty's burdens, this humble concubine feels profound peace of mind just looking upon them."

Hearing this, Sovereign Lang Zhao would merely reach out to touch the soft cheek of the little imperial prince without offering a single word in response. At that point, I would cease my speech. Pillow-talk of this nature, if delivered to excess, would inevitably breed aversion. One needed only to breathe a very soft breath, right where it mattered most, and that would be entirely sufficient.

18

By the time imperial prince Cheng Hui reached the age of three, he was already capable of sitting upon Sovereign Lang Zhao's knee, recognizing characters written across the imperial memorials. The boy was fair-skinned, remarkably endearing, obedient by nature, and greeted everyone he met with a bright smile. With the Lam family having completely withdrawn from the political arena, there were no longer any powerful maternal relatives to fear. A young imperial prince of such tender years gave even the most hypercritical censors no leverage whatsoever to pick faults. Gazing at the tiny figure nestled securely in his arms, Sovereign Lang Zhao would wear a deeply contented and reassured smile. When Cheng Hui turned five, Sovereign Lang Zhao formally bestowed upon me the rank of Wise Noble Consort, allowing me to share the governance of the six palaces equally alongside Noble Consort Shen. It had taken the Shen woman more than ten years of bitter struggle to ascend to the position of Noble Consort. For me, counting from that unforgettable night within the Hall of Supreme Purity, a mere seven years had elapsed. I had no desire to tear away all civility and engage in open warfare with her. Instead, I personally carried Cheng Hui to the Jade Immortal Palace to express our gratitude for her watchful care over the past years. Raising her teacup to her lips, she attempted to mask the venom lurking within her gaze:

"Wise Noble Consort is indeed remarkably astute, far outshining the Lam woman of former days."

I replied with a placid smile: "Your Ladyship flatters me far too much."

"With Your Ladyship leading the way as our shining example, this younger sister naturally dares not slacken in the slightest."

Though advanced in years, Sovereign Lang Zhao showered this youngest son of his with an overwhelming abundance of affection and indulgence.