To outsiders, she was the all-powerful favored consort, a woman who had the Crown Prince wrapped around her little finger, leaving him utterly enthralled.

  But only Consort Fan herself knew the truth.

  The Crown Prince’s affection and favor were nothing but a facade.

  The real reason he kept her by his side was simply because Crown Princess Lu was not an ideal puppet. The Crown Prince needed someone who could shoulder the bme, allowing him to maintain his image as the benevolent, kind-hearted, and perpetually wronged heir to the throne.

  Consort Fan had always understood her true value. She had also been painstakingly careful to maintain the appearance of a spoiled, arrogant, and ignorant imperial consort.

  But now, she y prostrate on the cold floor, her once-proud demeanor completely shattered. Trembling, she clutched the hem of the Crown Prince’s robes, nearly incoherent in her panic.

  "That was all youthful foolishness… Your Highness knows me… I would never… I wouldn’t dare… I wouldn’t dare…"

  Her voice quivered as she pleaded.

  The lie she had told her son, about sending for an identical golden hairpin from her hometown, had never been true.

  She knew all too well that trying to cover up the truth would only further enrage the unpredictable man before her. She did not dare—and she had the self-awareness to recognize that.

  The Crown Prince ughed softly.

  The sound was light—yet it struck Consort Fan’s heart like a thundercp, turning her face deathly pale and making her entire body tremble.

  Terrified, she knelt lower, knocking her forehead against the ground repeatedly, tears clinging to her long shes, threatening to fall but never quite dropping.

  "Your Highness! You are wise beyond measure—you know me! I would never betray you… That was all in the past…"

  The Crown Prince reached out and lifted her chin, his breath warm against her delicate, porcein face.

  His gaze bore into hers—sharp, unrelenting.

  "But your sister made a compelling point," he murmured.

  "If you truly had no lingering affections, then why did you drive her to the brink? Wouldn’t it have been better to let her be, to maintain the appearance of a harmonious noble household—just like every other powerful family?"

  The Crown Prince hated disruptions.

  Everything had been proceeding exactly as he pnned—Jinxiang Marquis Manor was firmly within his grasp, and both Han Zhi and Han Zhengqing were useful pieces on his chessboard.

  But Consort Fan, in her foolish self-interest, had made a mess of things.

  She had thrown everything into chaos, pcing him in an impossible situation, forcing him to expin himself to the Emperor.

  His voice turned mocking, his fingers brushing away a single tear that clung to her shes.

  "It seems you are more calcuting than I thought…"

  He let out another low chuckle, sending a shiver down Consort Fan’s spine.

  "How ruthless… You were willing to cast aside your own sister."

  His voice was silken, but the underlying menace was unmistakable.

  "Were you so worried Han Zhengqing would never find a wife?"

  "So much so that you deliberately pushed your own fourteen-year-old sister—barely past childhood—into his arms as a repcement?"

  His tone turned cold.

  "I always knew you were clever. But I never imagined you could be this cruel."

  A wave of nausea rose in Consort Fan’s throat, but she forced it down, keeping her posture submissive.

  Her hands gripped her skirt tightly, knuckles turning white as tears began to spill uncontrolbly.

  The Crown Prince regarded her with detached curiosity.

  "If you were going to do it, why not at least let her live in peace?"

  He released her chin, frowning slightly at the red imprint of his fingers against her pale skin.

  "I have no interest in how you schemed against her."

  His voice was dismissive, as if the matter were beneath him.

  "Nor do I care about your attempts to turn her husband and son against her."

  His gaze sharpened.

  "But you were always cautious."

  "Why, this time, did you act so recklessly—forcing my hand?"

  He turned away, standing before the frosted window, staring at the intricate patterns of ice blooming across the gss.

  His voice grew quiet, yet piercing.

  "I have been sick for long enough. The Emperor, and the entire court, demand an expnation."

  His tone was emotionless.

  "A marchioness has died. I cannot simply let it pass."

  He gnced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

  "Tell me—how should I handle this?"

  This was why Consort Fan had been so terrified.

  She feared nothing more than this man—the very same man who had once elevated her to the heavens.

  Biting her lip, she forced herself to remain calm.

  Her voice was barely a whisper.

  "Your Highness, my… my nephew was a disgrace."

  "He opened illegal gambling dens, lent money at usurious rates, and caused untold suffering. The people hated him."

  "Lord He acted righteously, delivering justice."

  She hesitated, then added in a smaller voice,

  "But my sister… She refused to see reason."

  "She bmed you and me for his death."

  Her breath hitched.

  "So she seized the opportunity during her daughter’s wedding to storm into the Eastern Pace and… and publicly berated Your Highness, in a fit of grief and rage—until Your Highness colpsed from anger."

  A pusible story.

  Convincing, even.

  Would Emperor Jianzhang believe it?

  That was uncertain.

  But at the very least, it would suffice as a cover.

  Clearly, Consort Fan had not been idle these past few days.

  The Crown Prince leaned back into his seat, his expression amused.

  "Go on."

  Consort Fan exhaled quietly, sensing a faint opportunity to regain his favor.

  "I have already written to my father and mother—this is the story they will spread."

  "Additionally, I have instructed my mother to warn my elder brother—he must not act rashly in Fujian."

  "As for the Northwest, we have already sent the necessary seals."

  "The Marquis will understand what Your Highness means."

  For years now, Emperor Jianzhang had been dissatisfied with the Crown Prince.

  The Crown Prince’s actions—particurly his ruthlessness toward his brothers—had strayed too far from the benevolent image he was meant to uphold.

  The Yangzhou Corruption Case was the final straw.

  By orchestrating the downfall of Prince Duan, and then leveraging Zhang Yuan’s accusations to completely destroy him, the Crown Prince had torn apart an entire political faction.

  But Emperor Jianzhang was a man of sentiment.

  The Crown Prince still remembered the way his father had hesitated before sighing heavily, saying:

  "Even among ten fingers, some are longer, some are shorter."

  "I may not treat all my sons equally, but I still wish to keep them all."

  The Crown Prince scoffed at the memory.

  Keep them all?

  If he did nothing, his brothers—circling him like starving wolves—would devour him alive.

  Why should he protect those waiting for his downfall?

  For now, though, Consort Fan’s efforts had lightened his burden.

  At least on the surface, Emperor Jianzhang would view Jinxiang Marquis Manor as nothing more than a reckless noble household.

  And so, the Crown Prince continued to feign illness, letting time pass—waiting, observing.

  After all, at this moment, with his father’s eyes on him, the smartest move was to do nothing at all.

  (Transtor Xiaobai: The biggest bombshell! The Crown Prince was never sick)