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A deep, unshakable worry welled up in Princess Rongcheng’s heart. The Crown Prince’s temperament made things incredibly difficult. If he didn’t want to speak, he would clench his jaw and keep silent, refusing to yield no matter how much he was pressed.
Even the Empress couldn’t pry anything out of him—how could she, as his younger sister, possibly succeed?
But when she visited him again, she could no longer hold back. Grabbing his sleeve, she furrowed her brows and pressed him urgently.
"What exactly happened that day? The entire capital is in an uproar, everyone is specuting about what kind of grievance the Marchioness of Jinxiang must have caused you… Now she has set fire to the entire Jinxiang Marquis Manor! If you don’t give a proper expnation, even Father won’t be able to overlook this!"
The Crown Prince knew full well what had happened.
But how was he supposed to expin it?
How could he possibly tell his imperial father, tell the entire world, that his own sister-in-w had stormed in, holding up a flower hairpin, and revealed to him that the concubine he had cherished for so many years—Consort Fan—had, in fact, been childhood sweethearts with her husband, that they had secretly pledged themselves to each other long ago, and that they had even exchanged tokens of love?
He had been so furious that he had fainted on the spot, arming the entire pace, summoning an army of imperial physicians and attendants—
But he couldn’t admit that!
His imperial father and mother had warned him countless times about favoring Consort Fan, but he had never listened.
If he exposed the truth now, wouldn’t he become the ughingstock of the entire court?
Meanwhile, Prince Gong and his wife were enjoying perfect harmony. Their legitimate sons and daughters were growing in number, and his governance of his fief was universally praised. His health was even better than the Crown Prince’s, and every year he personally hunted and sent back fine furs for their imperial parents.
The Crown Prince’s temples throbbed with pain. His mind was in turmoil as he paced restlessly around the hall.
Sanbao, his loyal eunuch, quietly entered the chamber, repcing the tea and adding fresh incense. When he saw the Crown Prince finally stop pacing and gnce at him, he lowered his head humbly and softly reported:
"Your Highness, Consort Fan requests an audience."
She had been coming every day.
Every time, the Crown Prince refused to see her, and every time, she did not insist—but she still came.
The Crown Prince's gaze turned sharp, piercing through Sanbao like a bde.
The windowpanes had fogged up, obscuring the view outside. He stood there for a moment, composing himself, then finally nodded, flicking his robes as he sat down on the heated couch.
"Let her in."
Sanbao broke out in a cold sweat.
The Crown Prince’s earlier gaze had been utterly frightening, as if he might devour a man whole. Even in his weakened state, he was still the Crown Prince—the future Son of Heaven. With just one word, he could decide a man’s life or death.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Sanbao made up his mind—he would never meddle again.
His godfather and mentor, Eunuch Feng, who served Emperor Jianzhang, had always taught him:
"Be cautious in speech, in action, and in thought."
"Remember this always."
He had nearly forgotten—but not again.
Consort Fan gnced at Sanbao, her delicate and beautiful eyes flickering with a trace of guilt.
The maidservants behind her immediately took the hint, stepping forward with a thick, embroidered pouch.
But Sanbao did not dare to accept it.
Without a change in expression, he hid his hands beneath his wide sleeves, subtly pushing the pouch back before respectfully bowing and making a gesture of invitation.
"Never concern yourself with petty gains," he reminded himself over and over.
"Compared to the head on my shoulders, they are worth nothing."
His gaze grew clear and steady.
Consort Fan’s expression remained unchanged as she gently pushed open the doors and entered.
She took a few hurried steps forward, but when she was three paces away from the Crown Prince, she halted abruptly and bowed deeply.
Even now, the woman before him was still as beautiful as he remembered.
Like a ripe fruit on a branch, her vibrance and charm were enough to tempt any man.
The Crown Prince looked at her with a complex gaze, silent for a long moment.
Finally, he lifted a teacup and took a slow sip.
"Why have you come?"
Setting the teacup down, his gaze drifted past her, nding on the rge ceramic jar that held painted scrolls.
To the world, the Crown Prince was frail and weak—a man of little ambition.
But Consort Fan, who had spent years by his side, knew better.
People only saw fragments of the truth, filling in the bnks with their own naive assumptions.
If the Crown Prince were truly weak and incompetent, how could he have held the Eastern Pace for so many years?
His greatest skill was pying the fool.
Even his own siblings—Prince Gong and Princess Rongcheng—believed he survived only through his imperial parents’ pity and the privilege of being the eldest legitimate son.
But if he were truly that kind of man, then Grand Empress Dowager Rongxian would never have met such a miserable end, and the Yangzhou corruption case would never have been exposed to the entire empire.
In fact, it was precisely because the scandal had grown too big that the Emperor had finally realized the Crown Prince might not be as content with his position as he had once thought.
And so, after the Emperor's sudden suspicions, the Crown Prince had calmed down and kept a low profile for the time being.
Even the Crown Princess and their son, Prince Dongping, believed that the Yangzhou case had been orchestrated by the Fan family, maniputing the Crown Prince.
But Consort Fan knew the truth.
It had been entirely his doing.
He was no longer satisfied with the trade networks he seized from Prince Duan, nor with the business empire managed by Han Zhengqing—he wanted to control the economy of the entire South, and that was why Zhang Yuan had been instructed to frame so many officials.
Consort Fan slowly raised her head, the curve of her jawline delicate and refined.
She let out a barely audible sigh.
"Because… I am guilty."
The Crown Prince remained impassive, turning his jade ring between his fingers before letting out a soft chuckle.
"Oh? And what crime have you committed?"
He appeared utterly unfazed, not at all like a man who had recently been ill.
"I should not have let my own affections drive my sister to such despair."
Consort Fan’s voice trembled, her apricot eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"It is my fault…"
Her gaze flickered toward the ancient guqin beneath the southern window—the one named Daiyue (Awaiting the Moon).
Tears welled up in her eyes.
She had lied to her son.
She had told him she had practiced her skills diligently, that her rendition of High Mountains and Flowing Waters was indistinguishable from Lady Fan’s.
It was all a lie.
The Crown Prince had noticed immediately that something was off.
A man who had listened to guqin music all his life—how could he not tell that the pyer was different?
But instead of punishing her, he had admired her.
He had praised her for knowing what she wanted and fighting for it—for being a truly intelligent woman.
And yet…
"That hairpin… you never told me about it."
The Crown Prince’s gaze turned icy.
His lips curled into a mocking smile.
"Or did you, like the others, assume that I wouldn’t live much longer?"
His voice was soft, even tender—yet in Consort Fan’s ears, it was like a thundercp.
Cold sweat gathered beneath her arms, and for the first time, a trace of fear flickered in her eyes.
