Chapter 7

According to the customs of this dynasty, the day after the emperor and empress’s grand wedding, the couple must complete the final step of the ceremony—offering sacrifices at the ancestral temple to inform the imperial ancestors that the emperor of this generation has taken a wife and brought her to pay respects.  

After the ancestral temple rites, the empress is formally recognized by the imperial ancestors as a member of the royal family. Her name will also be officially recorded in the Imperial Genealogy. Unless she commits a grave offense leading to demotion or dismissal by the emperor, she will be buried alongside him in the Imperial Mausoleum after her passing, receiving ancestral offerings.  

These tedious rituals were always exhausting. Nie Long’s body, born prematurely with a slight congenital deficiency—what modern people would call suboptimal health—had weaker immunity and stamina than most, making her delicate and frail.  

Throughout the process, which involved endless kneeling and bowing, Chu Ji subtly supported her, ensuring the sacrificial rites were completed smoothly.  

But it wasn’t over yet. After returning to the palace and freshening up, Nie Long barely had time to rest before a palace maid came to report that the wives of imperial relatives and Imperial Honorees of the third rank or higher had come to pay their respects to Her Majesty.  

Nie Long was still changing her attire. She glanced at Chun Feng, signaling her to handle it.  

Chun Feng set down the items in her hands and stepped out, instructing the palace maid, “Escort the ladies to the side hall to be seated. Her Majesty will join them shortly.”  

The group of imperial ladies were led into the hall by palace maids and seated according to their ranks.  

The older princesses and consorts had visited the Kunning Palace during the late empress’s time, while the younger ones discreetly surveyed the surroundings. Since the current emperor had only just married and established an empress after ascending the throne, this was their first opportunity to enter the palace and greet her.  

The seating in the hall was arranged in two rows, left and right, with chairs and small tables lined up side by side.  

Seated at the foremost position on the left was Consort An, whose delicate features were offset by a sharp, triangular face that made her appear difficult to approach. With a pointed chin, hollow cheeks, and narrow eyes, she exuded an air of shrewdness and pettiness.  

Resting her finger-guarded hand on the armrest, Consort An smiled and remarked, “The Nie family is a prestigious clan, known for raising their children—both sons and daughters—with impeccable manners. I’m sure Her Majesty will be quite amiable.”  

A younger woman in pale pink palace attire, seated opposite her on the lower right, nodded in agreement. “Naturally.”  

The others, unwilling to openly discuss the empress, steered the conversation toward mundane matters.  

“Prince Gong’s son is nearly a year old now, isn’t he?”  

“Indeed! The little one has grown plump and fair-skinned. He’s learning to walk now—takes a few steps, tumbles a few times, yet refuses to be carried.”  

The reply came from the wife of Prince Gong’s heir. Prince Gong was the emperor’s only surviving uncle, a half-brother of the late emperor, known for his mild and unassuming nature. His seniority and reputation commanded respect.  

The elderly Princess Gong, now content with doting on her grandchildren at home, rarely made public appearances. Today, the younger generation of wives had come in her stead.  

“Being lively and active is good. A sturdy, healthy child is a joy to hold—plump and fair, utterly adorable.”  

……  

The group chatted merrily, the atmosphere warm and congenial.  

Consort An gave a soft snort, her lips curling downward in displeasure. She picked up her tea and took a few sips in silence.  

About a quarter of an hour later, a eunuch at the entrance announced, “Her Majesty the Empress has arrived!”

The ladies quickly rose and formed two lines to pay their respects. From the corner of their eyes, they caught only a glimpse of a hemline before a gentle voice from above said, “Ladies need not stand on ceremony.”

As they straightened, they instinctively appraised the newcomer. The woman appeared to be in the bloom of youth, exuding an air of refined elegance. Clad in a Gold and Silver Silk Phoenix Coronation Robe, the high-necked, waist-cinching design accentuated her slender, graceful figure as she moved with dignified poise.

Though the Empress was far younger than anyone present—barely out of adolescence—one glance at her Imperial Countenance made them lower their eyes, awed by the noble bearing that could only belong to a daughter of a centuries-old aristocratic house, raised in utmost privilege.

Nie Long took her seat at the head of the hall with a smile. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

Protestations of “We wouldn’t dare” rippled through the room as Nie Long summoned Chun Feng to serve refreshments.

Another round of polite gratitude ensued before the real discussion began.

This being Nie Long’s first time handling such affairs after an exhausting day, she kept conversation minimal once formalities ended. As the highest-ranking Empress present, the ladies took their cues from her demeanor. Quick-witted ones like Princess Kang seized the initiative to lighten the mood.

“Now that Your Majesty resides in the Imperial Palace, we humble subjects finally have somewhere to pay our New Year respects! We only hope Your Majesty won’t find our future visits too bothersome.”

“If Her Majesty tolerates nuisances like you, His Majesty the Emperor might still have you thrown out to spare her the disturbance!”

These bantering voices belonged to imperial relatives—those without real power yet carrying more weight than ordinary officials within palace walls. Their familial ties lent their words bold assurance.

Nie Long occasionally smiled or offered brief acknowledgments, sipping tea when weariness threatened to overwhelm her.

From the lower left seats, she suddenly sensed a glare of resentment, though the culprit vanished when she glanced downward.

“Meeting Your Majesty today brings me immense joy,” a voice declared. “Truly, you possess peerless beauty and virtue as the rumors claim—I’m utterly captivated.” The speaker’s tone shifted. “Since this rare audience permits, I beg Your Majesty to grant me justice.”

Nie Long looked down to identify Consort An occupying the first seat at the lower left.

Chun Feng whispered, “Your Majesty, this is the An Prince’s second wife. She has a son and daughter of her own. The previous consort died in childbirth, leaving a legitimate heir now aged four and a half.” A pause. “They say this Consort An… isn’t easily dealt with.”

Nie Long arched an eyebrow. Claiming to recognize her virtue after one meeting? While praising an imperial consort’s beauty might be ordinary, such flippant compliments toward the nation’s mother bordered on impropriety.

Her assessment confirmed Chun Feng’s warning—beneath the woman’s delicate features lay a razor-sharp edge. Nie Long suspected those earlier hostile glances had originated here.

The other ladies held their breath at Consort An’s opening gambit, recognizing the troublemaker’s signature move and wary of collateral damage.

Interpreting the young Empress’s silence as acquiescence, Consort An pressed on unchecked. “Your Majesty knows my household circumstances. Though a stepmother, I’ve treated my sister’s child as my own…”

“But the child contracted a severe illness two days ago. The imperial physicians said it was incurable and feared it might infect the other two younger ones. His Highness has already decided to send the child to the manor in the outskirts for care. No matter how much I pleaded, His Highness wouldn’t listen. The child is only four years old—such a pitiful fate! Today, I dared to seek Her Majesty’s advice, to beg for mercy for Jing’er.”

The assembled ladies exchanged glances, finding it utterly unbelievable. On the second day of the Empress’s wedding, during her audience with the Imperial Honorees and imperial relatives, this Consort An—had she lost her mind?—actually aired her family’s dirty laundry before the Empress?

Who didn’t know about Consort An’s shady affairs? Would she truly worry about the legitimate heir of the first wife? And risk offending the Empress by pleading before her?

The capital was only so big, and every household had maids and servants. The moment anything happened, the entire city would know—let alone the bizarre affairs of Prince An’s household?

If Consort An hadn’t poisoned the child herself, it would already be considered virtuous. What was she scheming now? The ladies couldn’t fathom her motives.

Nie Long, however, suddenly recalled something in a flash of insight. The vaguely familiar names—”Duke Nie’s Mansion,” “Xuan Kingdom”—finally clicked. She lowered her head to conceal her reaction, her mind involuntarily drifting.

“My brother excels in every way, except for his unreliable mother…” This was a frequent lament in the thoughts of the male lead, now emperor, during the later stages of the novel *Path to the Throne*.

*Path to the Throne* was a wildly popular male-oriented novel, rare for featuring an outstanding female lead alongside the male lead in an ancient setting. Together, they fought against antagonists, eventually ruling side by side in a monogamous, revered reign—a satisfying progression novel that appealed not only to male readers but also to many female fans.

Here, the male lead’s “brother” was Consort An’s biological son, the supporting male character and heir to Prince An. By this point, the supporting character had grown into the male lead’s indispensable right-hand man.

Consort An, this universally despised oddity, held surprising narrative weight. Her son was the male lead’s trusted aide, and her daughter was the female lead’s closest confidante. In the story, she basked in glory through her children—the one flaw critics often pointed out in the novel.

No one remembered that Prince An’s first wife had left behind a legitimate heir. In the occasional recollections of the male lead, this child had contracted a fatal illness at four and died young. So, was this that moment?

Nie Long had read this novel back in high school, recommended enthusiastically by her novel-obsessed desk mate, who praised it to the skies. Out of curiosity, she had picked it up.

From the perspective of the male and female leads, the novel was indeed thrilling. After finishing it, Nie Long had felt thoroughly satisfied, even spending a quarter of her weekly allowance to vote for the author and leaving earnest feedback in the comments.

She had strongly urged the author to “kill off” the toxic, meddling mother of the supporting male character.

In the novel, the author had vividly detailed this character’s twisted psyche:

“Consort An often congratulated herself: if not for her cleverness in acting early, while that wretched woman’s child was still young, her own son would never have secured the heirship so smoothly, nor grown into such an outstanding man—the Emperor’s most trusted right hand! Who didn’t envy her for raising him so well?”

Nie Long couldn’t remember the exact wording, but that was roughly the idea.  

The bizarre values and eccentric behavior in the story made her feel physically uncomfortable. She had left a long critique, though she didn’t know if the author ever revised it afterward. After commenting on the novel, she immediately threw herself into the gaokao grind.  

Nie Long: “…”  

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, forcing herself to maintain her composure.  

This was the first novel Nie Long had ever read. Though it had been a long time, she still had some vague memories of the general plot.  

In the story, she was nothing more than a minor background character—barely involved in the main plot, only occasionally mentioned in the protagonists’ fleeting recollections. She was the short-lived, long-deceased original empress of the villain who was eventually overthrown by the main characters!  

The reason she hadn’t recalled this earlier wasn’t just because it had been so long since she read the novel, but also because her current identity had already… kicked the bucket before the story even began.  

A character who didn’t exist in the plot.  

“…”  

Author’s Note: The female lead: “Oh.” (Expressionless face JPG)