Chapter 19 – The Little Girl’s Troubles

In the blink of an eye, it was time for the Little New Year.

Two bouts of snowfall had slowed road construction.

There was unrest among refugees outside the city, prompting the Emperor to order the gates sealed to prevent any riots from disturbing the New Year celebrations within the city.

It just so happened that once the gates were sealed, the Marquis of Chengming managed to capture a few child traffickers.

After rescuing seven or eight children who had been abducted but not yet sold, peace was restored in the city. For the time being, the traffickers dared not stir up more trouble, and every household could finally celebrate the New Year with peace of mind.

When it came time to prepare for the festivities, the snow on the steps in front of the shops lining both sides of the street had already been packed down by countless feet.

The wealthy families were especially busy purchasing gifts for the New Year, buying in bulk and with extravagance.

Madam Wei, the Marquise, had rarely stepped foot into Weirui Courtyard recently. As the mistress of the marquis household, she was kept constantly busy—organizing gift lists, drawing up invitation cards, and overseeing the servants to ensure everything was done properly.

Weirui Courtyard, meanwhile, remained quiet as always.

Because Suoxin was still recovering from her illness, the young maid responsible for serving there had been replaced by Caiwei.

Caiwei was only eight years old, but she was more endearing in both speech and manner than Suoxin.

In just two days, she had earned a reward for making a feathered shuttlecock for Yao Yao.

This made Caiwei even more eager to please, trying everything she could to cheer Yao Yao up.

But in recent days, Yao Yao’s spirits had visibly declined—she seemed more withdrawn and low-spirited by the day.

More than once, Caiwei saw her resting her small round chin on her hands while sighing atop a stone stool in the courtyard. Whenever Caiwei asked what was wrong, she’d only shake her head.

Seeing the untouched pastries on the table, Caiwei grew worried that something might be physically wrong and was about to call the physician—but was stopped by the nanny.

With years of experience, the nanny calmly analyzed the situation: “Miss Yao Yao is growing up. She has her own worries now. That’s why she seems out of sorts.”

Caiwei didn’t understand. “But Miss Yao Yao is only four years old. She has food, drink, and pretty clothes. What could she possibly be worried about?”

Caiwei herself had been sold into the marquis household by her uncle. He’d said that if he didn’t sell her, he wouldn’t have enough money to buy medicine for her mother.

Caiwei clutched the sachet tied at her waist, thinking only about saving enough money to get treatment for her mother and to pay for her younger brother’s schooling.

But in Weirui Courtyard, the one most attentive to Yao Yao was the Young Heir.

He was the first to notice something wasn’t right with her.

Whenever he practiced calligraphy, he would have Yao Yao sit beside him with a plate of pastries in her arms. By the time he finished writing a page, she would’ve cleaned the plate.

But lately, his writing speed hadn’t changed—only Yao Yao’s eating speed had noticeably slowed.

She spoke less too, always sitting there with her head lowered, deep in thought.

This worried the Young Heir greatly. He ordered the kitchen to come up with new treats and sent people into town to buy jewelry and clothes to cheer her up.

Yao Yao took one bite of the freshly baked meat pie and sighed, “Sigh… It’s not as good as the ones my mother makes.”

She looked at the glittering, intricate hairpins and jewelry, but her gaze dimmed again. “They’re not as pretty as the ones my second brother gave me.”

When Caiwei helped her into a newly tailored outfit and was about to offer a compliment, Yao Yao’s nose turned red.

“These stitches aren’t as fine as my big sister’s,” she murmured.

Sniffle.

Yao Yao’s little nose twitched, and she couldn’t hold back the tears—two drops rolled down her cheeks.

Caiwei panicked and immediately went to report to the Young Heir.

There was a strict rule in Weirui Courtyard: without the Young Heir’s permission, no one—not even the Marquis or his wife—could enter freely.

Kneeling outside the study, Caiwei spoke with a trembling voice, “Young Master, Miss Yao Yao might be ill. Should we call for the household physician?”

Upon hearing this, Xie Yixing’s already cold eyes turned even darker.

No wonder none of his efforts had worked lately.

So it wasn’t just a bad mood—she might actually be sick.

In the front courtyard.

Madam Wei had just finished arranging the New Year’s gifts and was about to take a break and sip some cold tea.

She looked up—and met a pair of deep, indifferent black eyes, startling her into choking on her tea.

Realizing that Xie Yixing’s gaze was sharp and icy, Madam Wei tensed at once.

Who had upset her little ancestor now?

After all, she was his mother—she could tell at a glance that her son had come with a purpose.

But she dared not ask too directly, and instead tried to sound casual, “Yixing, did you feel stifled in Weirui Courtyard?”

Before she could finish her false show of concern, Xie Yixing got straight to the point. “I want to summon the Imperial Physician.”

The tea cup fell from Madam Wei’s hand in shock. She didn’t even bother picking it up as her composure dissolved in an instant. Her tone quickened, “Where are you feeling unwell?”

She looked him over carefully but found nothing amiss.

He was wearing the smoke-gray robe with silver trim she had sewn for him herself. He actually wore it—that made her a little happy, though the cold shower of his next words quickly extinguished that joy.

Meeting her anxious eyes, Xie Yixing—who was usually unreadable—showed a rare hint of worry. “It’s not me. It’s Yao Yao.”

“What happened to her?”

Relieved for a moment that he wasn’t sick, Madam Wei then felt a jolt of panic at the mention of Yao Yao’s name.

Seeing how tight-lipped he was, Madam Wei’s heart leapt into her throat.

It must be serious.

Now that she thought about it, it had been a few days since she last saw the chubby little girl. She had planned to check on the children after finishing her errands—to see if they needed anything so she could have the steward prepare it.

But who could’ve guessed that in just a few days, things would escalate to needing an imperial physician?

Just the thought of it made Madam Wei ache with worry.

Yao Yao had been such a plump, adorable little darling when she first entered the household—how could she have fallen ill so suddenly?

Without a moment’s delay, Madam Wei changed clothes and had the coachman ready the carriage to head for the palace.

But palace protocol was strict. To summon an imperial physician, she first needed permission from the mistress of the harem—the Empress.

As luck would have it, just as she sent someone to request an audience with the Empress, Consort Wei arrived with Princess Junhe to pay respects.

The three entered the hall together, and before Madam Wei could finish her bow, she felt a chill drift through the air like an icy wind.

Everyone in the capital knew of the political rift between Grand Duke Xu and Chancellor Wei, and how their families were locked in a power struggle—the Empress and Consort Wei clashing in the harem as their fathers did in court.

Being caught between these two women was like stepping into a battlefield.

After being offered a seat, Madam Wei dared not speak again. She only watched closely, waiting for the right moment to interject.

The Empress had just picked up her tea when Princess Junhe, standing by Consort Wei, grumbled, “The tea in the Empress’s palace is awful. It’s nothing like the Longjing Father gives Mother.”

Madam Wei saw the Empress’s face freeze.

The tension in the hall was palpable. Madam Wei realized she had come at the worst possible time.

But since she was already here, she couldn’t just leave.

Before the Empress could speak, Consort Wei—Junhe’s mother—took the lead in scolding her daughter: “Junhe, that was rude. Apologize to your royal mother at once!”

Her tone was strict, but there was pride in her eyes.

Clearly, she agreed with her daughter’s opinion.

Madam Wei stole another glance at Princess Junhe. So young, yet already so full of malice—willful and arrogant, treating others’ lives like playthings just because she was a princess.

She thought of Yao Yao, who was around the same age.

How could two girls the same age be so vastly different?