A Concubine’s Competitive Life in the Prince’s Household

Cai ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‍Ping looked on with admiration: "Today is the birthday of the Marquis of Southern Garrison’s elderly mother. Lady Sun held up an imperial decree, announcing her divorce by royal command, and had her maids carry away all her dowry. For now, the dowry is being stored at the Princess’s residence."

"The Marquis’s household had also used up a considerable portion of Lady Sun’s dowry—no less than ten or twenty thousand taels of silver—all of which was documented in promissory notes. If the Marquis’s family refuses to return it, Lady Sun will likely take up her sword and threaten to end her life at the palace gates again. Hahaha."

"Lady Sun is temporarily staying at the Princess’s residence, under Zhao Yang Princess’s protection. The Marquis’s household is furious but dares not retaliate. The Southern Garrison’s estate is in utter chaos, the elderly matriarch’s birthday banquet riddled with mishaps, leaving them utterly humiliated."

Shen Wei listened in astonishment.

What a decisive woman, Sun Qingmei!

Shen Wei took a sip of warm ginger tea, deciding to visit Sun Qingmei at the Princess’s residence in a couple of days. The two were close friends, after all, and since Sun Qingmei had suffered under the Marquis’s household, Shen Wei felt it appropriate to offer her some comfort.

...

Over the next two days, the scandal of the Marquis of Southern Garrison’s household became the talk of the capital. Public opinion was sharply divided—women sympathized with Sun Qingmei’s plight, while men understood Shangguan Xuan’s choices.

The uproar spread like wildfire, with the common folk of Yanjing discussing it over meals and tea.

On this pleasantly warm winter day, the sun cast a gentle glow on the skin. Shen Wei had her servants prepare a carriage for her trip to the Princess’s residence.

Shen Wei’s pregnancy was progressing smoothly; she was now over five months along. Bundled up in thick winter robes for warmth, she resembled a fluffy little cat in the cold season. Cai Ping carefully supported her, scanning the Prince’s Mansion’s pathways for any unevenness, terrified Shen Wei might take a misstep.

"My lady, look over there," Cai Ping whispered, drawing her attention.

Following Cai Ping’s gaze, Shen Wei saw the plum blossom garden within the Prince’s Mansion. Early winter had just arrived, and though the leaves of the dozens of white plum trees had not yet fully fallen, tiny buds had already begun to form on the branches.

Where there were plum blossoms, there was inevitably Liu Ruyan—and her maid, Xue Mei.

Liu Ruyan wore a plain silver winter robe, her hair adorned with nothing more than a single white jade hairpin. She wandered among the plum trees, her gaze tenderly fixed on the unopened blossoms.

With her snow-white complexion, slender figure, and flowing sleeves, Liu Ruyan looked like a celestial maiden descended to the mortal realm.

Shen Wei’s eyelids twitched at the sight. Her eyes lingered on Liu Ruyan’s thin attire before she couldn’t help but ask Cai Ping, "Did we not send winter fabric to Consort Liu this month?"

By convention, the Prince’s Mansion provided its consorts with several bolts of new fabric each season for making clothes.

Yet the robe Liu Ruyan wore was still an autumn dress.

Liu Ruyan had always been frail, and despite the cold, she loved wandering outside. The mansion spent a fortune on her medicinal expenses every year, much to the accountant’s dismay.

Cai Ping shrugged helplessly. "The storeroom sent Consort Liu five fine bolts of cotton fabric. But she refused them—she only accepts silver, plain white, pale jade, or similarly delicate shades. Since the storeroom didn’t have enough, Consort Liu had her family send five bolts of silver-white fabric instead."

Shen Wei: "..."

What an eccentric consort.

In the plum garden, Liu Ruyan seemed to hear the commotion. She lifted her misty, enchanting eyes and glanced at Shen Wei from afar, a faint smirk playing at her lips before she resumed her stroll.

Shen Wei looked down at her own attire and asked Cai Ping, "Do I look hideous? Why did Consort Liu seem to mock me?"

Cai Ping was equally baffled. "My lady, you look splendid—elegant and dignified."

Shen Wei sighed. She truly couldn’t fathom what went on in Liu Ruyan’s mind. Without lingering, she left the Prince’s Mansion with Cai Ping.

Back in the plum garden, Xue Mei followed Liu Ruyan expressionlessly. Liu Ruyan paused, her delicate fingers brushing against an early-blooming white plum blossom.

"So beautiful," Liu Ruyan murmured. "A pity Consort Shen lacks the refinement to appreciate it."

A cold wind swept through, tousling Xue Mei’s hair. She pushed the stray strands from her face and muttered, "Consort Shen is with child—she wouldn’t stroll in windy places to admire flowers."

The plum garden was situated in a drafty spot. Even on sunny winter days, the gusts were fierce, and the chill was biting. Xue Mei’s cheeks were already flushed from the cold.

Liu Ruyan chuckled softly. "How pitiable Consort Shen is."

Xue Mei looked up at the glaring sun. "My lady, how is Consort Shen pitiable?"

To Xue Mei, Shen Wei was practically drowning in luxury—favored by the Prince, trusted by the Empress, with the main consort under house arrest, Shen Wei held full authority over the household and had a child to secure her position.

If Shen Wei was pitiable, then no one in the world could be considered fortunate.

Liu Ruyan’s voice was cool, her eyes laced with disdain. "Her daughter is barely five months old, and she’s already pregnant again. Clearly, she’s desperate for a son to solidify her standing. Power blinds people, evoking both pity and scorn."

In Liu Ruyan’s eyes, Shen Wei would stop at nothing to bear a son.

What was so great about sons?

Men were fickle creatures. A daughter was far better—gentle, delicate, and infinitely superior to worthless men.

Xue Mei rubbed her forehead silently. [My lady, you have a daughter too, yet you’ve never shown her any care. And here you are, criticizing Consort Shen...]

She had seen Shen Wei’s daughter, Li Leyou, a couple of times recently. The plump, cheerful little girl, well-tended by her nurses and maids, was thriving.

"Xue Mei, later, pluck some plum buds and dry them to make incense powder," Liu Ruyan called from ahead.

Suppressing her frustration, Xue Mei hurried after her.

...

The carriage arrived at the Princess’s residence without incident.

Shen Wei descended with Cai Ping’s assistance. A maid from the residence guided them inside, and as they walked, Shen Wei rehearsed her words in her mind.

When she met Sun Qingmei, she must avoid reopening old wounds. Her tone had to be just right—offering comfort without overstepping.

Shen Wei remembered a colleague from her past life who had divorced her husband immediately after discovering his infidelity. The woman had appeared perfectly composed in public, as if unaffected.

It wasn’t until Shen Wei stumbled upon her weeping alone on the company rooftop that she realized some people hid their fragility behind a facade of strength, nursing their wounds in silence.

"Mustn’t reopen Lady Sun’s wounds," Shen Wei murmured to herself as she walked. Beyond offering solace, she also needed to caution Sun Qingmei against falling for Shangguan Xuan’s sweet talk again.

The Marquis’s household would never let Sun Qingmei go so easily—they would surely try to lure her back.

In the warmth of her chambers, Zhao Yang Princess was engrossed in a novel. Spotting Shen Wei, she quickly ordered hot soup to be brought in.

Zhao Yang took Shen Wei’s hand and seated her on a plush divan. "You’re carrying a child—you shouldn’t be running around in this cold! If anything happens, my second brother will blame me."

A maid brought over a bowl of warming broth and draped a thick tiger-fur blanket over Shen Wei’s lap.

Shen Wei took a few sips of the soup, her eyes scanning the room. Sun Qingmei was nowhere in sight.

"Princess, is Lady Sun still resting?" Shen Wei’s heart ached for her.

Sun Qingmei was gentle, dignified, and faultless—she had done nothing to deserve such treatment.

Alas, she had encountered a heartless and ungrateful man, and her once-promising life was utterly ruined. Shen Wei couldn't help but worry—had Lady Sun already fallen ill, confined to her bed?

Zhao Yang set down the storybook and said with a bright smile, "Lady Sun left Yanjing early this morning."