Ending 1 of Chapter 100

Yan’er felt her whole body sink heavily into the snow, a sharp pain wrenching through her abdomen from the fall. “Bi, Bi’er,” she gasped.

Bi’er immediately rushed over, still shaken, gripping Yan’er’s wrist tightly. “Your Highness, your Highness, are you alright?”

“Bi’er... I think the baby’s coming,” Yan’er struggled to utter the words. The due date had nearly arrived, and after such a hard fall, there was no doubt the time had come. The familiar, searing pain from her womb began to radiate throughout her body.

Yan’er pointed to her skirt. “Bi’er, quickly... look.”

Following her instruction, Bi’er lifted the thick cotton skirt, revealing the faintly red amniotic fluid that had already melted the snow beneath Yan’er.

“Your Highness, the water has broken,” Bi’er said, her face distressed. She was still a young girl herself, inexperienced with childbirth; although she had heard of such things, she had never witnessed them firsthand.

“Go find the Emperor,” Yan’er said with effort, supporting herself to stand with Bi’er’s help. Fortunately, the water had just broken; the most intense pains had not yet begun. She gingerly moved forward, cradling her swollen belly.

“Someone! Xiao Lan!” Bi’er called out anxiously in the courtyard, summoning several maidservants quickly.

“Hurry! The Empress is in labor! Xiao Lan, take some people inside and care for Her Highness. I’ll go fetch the Emperor.” With that, Bi’er pressed Yan’er’s wrist firmly and rushed off into the snow.

Luckily, Guan Canghai’s daily routine was fixed; at this hour, he would be in his study reviewing memorials. Bi’er went straight to the Imperial Study and knelt outside without waiting for a messenger. “Your Majesty, Consort Yan is—”

Guan Canghai had already heard that Yan’er had fainted from the pain. He called urgently for the midwife and imperial physicians inside, determined to ensure the safety of both mother and child.

This pregnancy had been fraught with ill fortune from the start. Since Yan’er rarely moved about, the child’s arrival was more difficult than with Zizhan. Though kept conscious by forced acupuncture from the imperial doctors, Yan’er occasionally let out agonized cries.

The entire Tianxiang Palace became unexpectedly bustling with activity due to Yan’er’s labor and the Emperor’s sudden arrival. Many servants were unaware that their mistress was even with child; no wonder the Emperor had issued such strict orders. In hindsight, it was surely to protect her.

By evening, Yan’er finally gave birth, exhausting everyone involved. She was utterly drained and, after a glance at her newborn, fainted again.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty, Consort Yan has delivered a son,” the midwife announced with a smile.

“A boy?” Guan Canghai’s eyes lit up with joy as he looked toward the bedchamber. “Consort Yan’s delivery merits great reward. We shall honor her soon. For now, care well for them both.” His happiness was genuine.

When Yan’er awoke again, she saw beside her the infant prince already bestowed with the title of Crown Prince. She could hardly believe her fortune; others struggled to bear a son, yet she had done so at once.

Because of the child, Guan Canghai frequently sent abundant gifts. Since the prince was not yet a month old, the Emperor did not come to see Yan’er personally. She no longer knew how to face the man she once wished to forget forever. Yet this little prince had dragged her back into reality.

“Your Highness, look how handsome the little prince is,” Bi’er said sincerely, gazing at the child peacefully sleeping in his cradle, genuinely happy for Yan’er.

Indeed, the boy had inherited the beauty of both his parents—a face so charming one could not resist picking him up for kisses. “Bi’er, don’t mind him. Where has the Emperor been sleeping lately?”

“Since the prince’s birth, His Majesty has stayed in his own chamber every night. We haven’t heard of him visiting any other consort,” Bi’er replied, surprised that Yan’er still cared about the Emperor. Could it be that her Highness was favored once again? Bi’er thought that with Yan’er’s influence, no one in the harem could rival her, not even the Lady of Chang Le.

Yan’er asked no more and, weary, turned to lie down again. She did not know why she inquired about Guan Canghai’s whereabouts—perhaps it was mere curiosity.

In the blink of an eye, the prince had reached his full month. Guan Canghai adored the child deeply, who truly embodied the finest traits of both parents. The boy’s cherubic face was utterly endearing. True to his word, on the prince’s full month day, Guan Canghai decreed that Yan’er be elevated to Empress three days hence. The position had long been vacant, much to the frustration of many ladies in the harem. But the Emperor declared: whoever bore the Crown Prince would be the sole mistress of Weiyang Palace. No one expected that after all the scheming and struggle, Li Banshuang would claim the title with ease.

The previous reign had been turbulent as well. Li Banshuang lacked powerful backing, so everyone fiercely vied for their own faction’s gain. Yet Li Banshuang’s advantage was having borne the Crown Prince. Guan Canghai had only one other child, Princess Jingyue, born to Xia Man’er. Though the Lady of Chang Le was also pregnant, she had no supporters. For one, she was a foreign woman of low rank brought as tribute from a distant land; for another, the Crown Prince had already been born and was expected to thrive. What could the Lady of Chang Le do, having carried her child only a few months?

Despite widespread dissatisfaction in the harem, Yan’er was still elevated to Empress by Guan Canghai’s and her son’s actions.

Holding the golden phoenix seal, Yan’er could only marvel. In the harem, it all came down to a woman’s womb: if it succeeded, she received everything she desired; if not, she had to accept her fate.

Guan Canghai remained cool and distant toward her, yet when it came to her investiture, he firmly supported her. Yan’er could not explain why, and she met his coldness with calm indifference.

Three years passed in this near cold war. Small changes occurred in the harem. The Lady of Chang Le bore the Emperor a daughter, Princess Jingyue, thereafter making Crown Prince Muboya even more precious to Guan Canghai. Other consorts grew anxious but their wombs remained barren, producing no signs of pregnancy.

Guan Canghai truly doted on the boy. From the moment he learned to walk, the Emperor took his son daily to learn the duties of a ruler. This favor cemented Yan’er’s position, making it unassailable. No one dared harbor rash thoughts against her. No one expected that after becoming Empress, Yan’er would manage the harem with such orderliness, keeping meticulous accounts of each palace and hall. Whether others accepted it or not, she had succeeded.

Occasionally, Yan’er thought of Zizhan and Mubai, recalling their promise to visit her after five years. Time had slipped by, and she had yet to see Zizhan again. Watching Muboya bask in his father’s love, Yan’er’s heart ached for Zizhan, shedding countless secret tears. She understood that beyond the pain of mother and child being separated, she still harbored a youthful love for Pan Yueyang.

By now, Pan Yueyang and Oulan’s child must be grown. Fate had kept her and Yueyang apart. For Yueyang, she had gained everything she now possessed. But aside from her status as Empress, what did she truly have? A hollow marriage with Guan Canghai, a union in name only?

“Mother, mother,” a tender child’s voice pulled Yan’er from her thoughts. Muboya, now steady on his feet, dressed in pale yellow, glowed with innocence in the sun.

“Where did you play today, Muboya?” Yan’er lifted her three-year-old son in her arms, though her fragile frame found it somewhat taxing.

“Father taught me chess,” Muboya replied excitedly, looking at her with pure joy. In his small world, an ‘old friend’ meant someone very dear. “Father said you have an old friend here.”

“Old friend?” Yan’er paused abruptly. Guan Canghai would not have his son say this without reason. Could it mean Mubai had come with Zizhan? Or was something amiss with Yueyang’s side?

“Yes, mother. Father said so. The prince will take you to see him,” Muboya said, reaching for her hand to lead her away.

“No, mother won’t go. Muboya, stay and chat with me. You’re always clinging to your father and never give mother a chance to show you love,” Yan’er teased, pinching his adorable nose.

“That’s not allowed, mother. I want to learn martial arts. Today Father agreed I could start training every afternoon. So, mother, I really can’t stay and talk,” Muboya said, a little sadly, resting his head on her lap.

“Alright then, go learn seriously. Mother won’t blame you,” Yan’er said, stroking his soft hair. The glow of a mother’s love made her more beautiful.

After seeing Muboya off, Yan’er settled into her usual spot on the wicker chair in the courtyard. The previous summer, she had ordered the construction of a thick trellis overhead, shielding the scorching sun. Beneath the shade, it was cool and green, a perfect place to savor the finest tribute teas alone each day.

“Zizhan...” Soon after Muboya left, Yan’er slipped back into her thoughts, yearning more than ever to see her ill-fated son. Thinking of Zizhan, she whispered his name aloud.

Snapping herself out of sorrow, Yan’er quickly masked her expression. She knew better than anyone the strictest taboo within the harem.

On the palace rooftop with glazed tiles, Baili Mubai and a small head rested. Mubai’s complex gaze fixed on the woman below. “Zizhan, this is your mother.”

“I understand,” Zizhan’s cold voice was like the deepest ice in a frozen valley, forbidding anyone from approaching. The five-year-old’s face bore none of the softness typical of his age, only a grave maturity.

“Don’t you want to go down and see her properly?” Mubai asked, his youthful fire tempered by the years.

“Let Mubai go down,” Zizhan replied calmly, even in jest.