99 To Be a Forgotten Soul

“Get lost!” Guan Canghai shook Yan’er off and refused to look at her any longer.

“I will leave, but I won’t go until I see Pan Yueyang again!” Yan’er stood quietly a little distance behind Guan Canghai, afraid that his sudden anger might harm her.

“Hmph, you sure have it all planned out.” Guan Canghai turned around and looked at Yan’er with disdain.

Clap! Clap! Clap! Without waiting for Yan’er to speak, Guan Canghai clapped three times into the air. A shadow quickly appeared before him. The figure was unfazed by Yan’er’s presence and respectfully knelt halfway, awaiting his orders.

“Bring that man here!” Guan Canghai clenched his jaw tightly, each word dripping with bitterness.

“Yes.” The shadow flickered once more and vanished into the study.

“You no longer have the chance to back out. This is your choice. From now on, don’t blame me!” Guan Canghai plopped into his chair, frowning with a headache.

“I do not regret it.” Yan’er suddenly knelt down.

“Get up.” Guan Canghai’s voice lost its strength, and as he leaned back in his chair, he looked completely hollowed out.

Yan’er quietly studied Guan Canghai. Was today’s decision right or wrong? This man who sat on the Dragon Throne was a stranger to her. From the moment they met to their time together, she had never truly appreciated him. She had merely guessed his character based on her own assumptions. Maybe he truly cared for her? Yan’er wasn’t sure. How could one love someone so deeply without truly understanding them?

He could never genuinely love me! Yan’er concluded inwardly. With that thought, she somehow felt much lighter. If that was the case, she owed no one an apology. She had to live, and Pan Yueyang had to live too!

Pan Yueyang was brought into the study, his tall figure standing resolutely, still as imposing as ever.

Yan’er gazed at Pan Yueyang with a hint of affection and couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Yueyang, soon you’ll be able to leave here.”

Pan Yueyang glanced at Yan’er but found himself unable to speak the words he had wanted to say.

“I have stripped you of your martial skills and now release you from the palace. This life is the one she begged for on your behalf.” Guan Canghai looked coldly at Pan Yueyang, his heart a mixture of envy for the favor shown by a beauty and disdain for a life sustained by a woman’s pity.

“Hmph, don’t expect me to be grateful. I don’t acknowledge you in this world!” Pan Yueyang glared stubbornly at Guan Canghai.

“Victory belongs to the king, defeat to the bandit. This has been the law since ancient times. Since the Panlong Kingdom is no more, I’ll grant you, a former general, a peaceful life with your wife and child.” Guan Canghai smiled generously, though only he understood the meaning behind that smile.

Yan’er suddenly realized something. “You mean Oulan?”

Guan Canghai sneered and met Yan’er’s shocked gaze. “I might have forgotten to tell my beloved consort that Oulan bore a son for this former General Pan. Both mother and child are safe, and I am personally taking care of Pan General’s family.”

Yan’er’s hand trembled. Yan’er, oh Yan’er, did you think you were so noble? You exchanged yourself for Pan Yueyang’s freedom, yet in the end, it was still the reunion of the entire family. But what about Zizhan? What about Zizhan? She suddenly clutched her chest, struggling to suppress a strong wave of nausea.

“What did you say? Oulan is in your hands?” Pan Yueyang could hardly believe what Guan Canghai had just said.

“Take him away!” Guan Canghai didn’t want to continue this conversation.

The man in black obeyed the order, grabbing the now powerless Pan Yueyang and leaving the study.

“Li Banshuang, prepare for tonight’s banquet.” Guan Canghai suddenly called out Yan’er’s alias, creating an invisible distance between them.

Yan’er’s tear-filled face overflowed. “I obey, Your Majesty.”

She staggered out of the study, never expecting that Guan Canghai would not only release Yueyang but also spare Oulan.

Dragging her weary body back to Tianxiang Palace, she collapsed onto the bed and fainted. Bi’er, following Yan’er’s orders, dared not notify the Imperial Medical Office and quietly stayed by her side.

Time passed slowly. It was already time to light the lamps, yet Yan’er showed no sign of waking up. Bi’er gently nudged her. “Your Highness, it’s time to get up.”

Yan’er blinked drowsily, turned over, and fell asleep again.

Let me just sleep like this forever, never to wake up again.

Bi’er was persistent. “Your Highness, tonight is the banquet for Consort Changle. You must attend.”

Yan’er ignored Bi’er’s words. Exhausted, all she wanted was a good sleep—preferably one that would return her to the past, to the days at Suhe Mansion when Xiaoyu was by her side.

“Your Highness…” Bi’er paced anxiously. If she didn’t attend the banquet, would it stir controversy in the harem again?

Seeing Yan’er’s stubbornness, Bi’er could only anxiously wait by the bedside.

After a night passed, Yan’er finally struggled to get out of bed.

“Your Highness, you’re awake.” Bi’er immediately brought a cup of tea.

Yan’er sipped it, the water soothing her dry throat, but she leaned back sloppily against the headboard.

“You had a fever last night. We weren’t allowed to notify the Imperial Medical Office, so I had to use folk remedies to cool you down. Fortunately, you’re awake now.” Bi’er knelt, looking at Yan’er with concern.

“Last night, the emperor sent someone to ask why you didn’t attend the banquet,” Bi’er said cautiously, watching Yan’er’s expression.

“Later, the emperor came himself but, seeing you asleep and unwell, didn’t dare disturb you and left hurriedly.” Bi’er felt something different about Yan’er but couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Your Highness? Are you still unwell? Would you like to lie down and rest some more?” Bi’er touched Yan’er’s forehead. It wasn’t hot anymore.

Yan’er remained silent, her vacant eyes fixed on the blanket as if nothing Bi’er said could reach her ears.

Bi’er sensed something was wrong and quickly summoned Xiao Lan. “Keep an eye on Your Highness.” After a brief instruction, Bi’er hurried out of Tianxiang Palace.

She needed to report to the emperor that something seemed off with Yan’er.

Indeed—

Since that night, Yan’er had descended into complete self-isolation. She no longer spoke, only staring at one spot, lost in her own thoughts, refusing to communicate with anyone.

Several days passed like this until Guan Canghai summoned the imperial physician to examine her. As he expected, Yan’er had no physical illness—her pain was psychological, an unresolved knot in her heart. The doctor’s diagnosis: the only way to untie the knot was for the one who tied it to resolve it.

What surprised Guan Canghai even more was that Yan’er was pregnant, confirming the result from that hurried pulse diagnosis he had performed.

At that moment, Guan Canghai stood far from the bed in Tianxiang Palace, watching Yan’er sitting in disarray.

“Order this: Consort Yan is gravely ill. She may not meet anyone privately from now on. Tianxiang Palace is to be treated like a cold palace; all conditions remain as before!” Guan Canghai’s cold gaze fixed on Yan’er. “This is the price you must pay. I will take care of you until you die.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Yan’er suddenly spoke, startling Bi’er.

Guan Canghai looked at Yan’er’s expressionless face, unwilling even to see her directly. With a flick of his sleeve, he left.

From then on, Tianxiang Palace, once bustling with attention and favor, overnight became a place everyone feared. No servant dared approach it. Though the emperor’s decree kept conditions the same, no one in the palace wished to curry favor with a fallen consort.

Tianxiang Palace seemed abandoned by the imperial family, destined to fade from history.

Yan’er caressed her belly, now close to delivery and feeling cumbersome to move. It was snowy season, but the room was warm enough. After months of adjustment, her heart had calmed considerably. Bi’er continued to relay news from outside.

She heard that Xia Man’er had given birth to a daughter, and He Meiru had been demoted to a mere Beauty, though no one knew why. Rumors suggested Xia Man’er was involved. Yan’er suspected something, recalling Guan Canghai’s repeated questioning about whether she had taken part in something.

Only today did she realize it might have been that rice cake all along. But now, such matters no longer mattered to her.

Yesterday, Bi’er excitedly returned to tell her that the emperor declared whoever bore him a son would be made empress.

Yan’er laughed bitterly. That news would surely drive the women of the harem mad, each vying for the emperor’s favor.

Bi’er had also mentioned that Guan Canghai’s life was quite “colorful,” sleeping with different women every day. Whenever she spoke of this, Bi’er looked downcast, as if pleading for justice on Yan’er’s behalf. But he was the emperor—how could he linger with just one woman?

She heard that Consort Changle was also pregnant and was now regarded as a thorn in the side of the harem. Despite this, when it came to status, Bi’er always confidently declared that Yan’er, Consort Yan of Tianxiang Palace, was still the highest.

The news of Yan’er’s pregnancy had been kept secret. Only a few close maids knew, and she rarely ventured out. Maybe this was for the best, protecting herself and her child.

Yan’er stroked her belly, wondering if this was all a deliberate plan by Guan Canghai or mere coincidence. She believed the mysterious emperor had calculated everything, including her child.

“Your Highness, you’re awake?” Bi’er entered and saw Yan’er clutching her belly by the window. Worried, she draped a cloak over her shoulders.

“It looks like it’s snowing outside. Bi’er, I want to go see the snow.” Today, Yan’er felt a little lighter. She gently pushed open the window a crack and gazed at the vast white world outside. The cold air invigorated her.

“Of course, Your Highness. Going out for a walk is a wonderful idea.” Bi’er happily dressed Yan’er in thicker clothes and carefully helped her outside.

The cold air instantly brushed Yan’er’s cheeks. She reached out to catch a snowflake suspended in the air; it melted instantly in her palm. She walked briskly to the tree branches overhead. “Wow, it’s snowing. How lovely.”

“Your Highness, be careful!” Bi’er’s sharp eyes noticed the steps beneath Yan’er’s feet.

“Ah!” At the same moment Bi’er shouted, Yan’er slipped and fell from the not-so-high steps—