Ying Qionglou waited for more—surely there was a reason she liked the grand prince.

  But Wumian didn’t continue, so he had to press her: “Is there something special about him?”

  “No. He is just cute, isn’t he?” Wumian replied vaguely.

  And truly, there wasn’t much more to it—he just spoke slowly in a way that made him endearing.

  “Out of the whole pace, it’s rare for the Empress to show affection for the grand prince,” Ying Qionglou remarked with meaning.

  Wumian pretended not to understand. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  If no one else likes him, then I will. He’s only nine years old—there’s nothing for people to gossip about.

  “You’ve really changed a lot,” Ying Qionglou said, though the comment felt rather empty.

  Wumian smiled at him. “Your Majesty, have some tea. This is the new spring tea you had sent yesterday. It’s quite good.”

  Ying Qionglou took a sip. “It is. If you like it, I have more—I’ll have it sent to you.”

  “Wonderful, thank you, Your Majesty.” Wumian happily accepted. If she couldn’t finish it herself, she could always reward the servants with it. It was still fine tea, after all.

  Just then, a eunuch called from outside, “Your Majesty, Your Majesty the Empress.”

  “Come in,” Wumian said.

  It was Yang Heshun, a pace attendant who had accompanied the Emperor.

  “What is it?” Ying Qionglou asked.

  “Replying to Your Majesty—news from Jinhua Pavilion. It seems Fu Meiren lost her footing and fell. The imperial physician is on his way, but we don’t yet know how serious the injury is.”

  Ying Qionglou frowned. “How did she fall?”

  “I don’t know, Your Majesty. A maid from there came to report it,” Yang Heshun replied, bowing.

  Wumian gnced at the Emperor. His expression didn’t show worry or concern—if anything, he looked… slightly annoyed?

  “Since we’ve been told, why don’t we go take a look?” Wumian suggested. After all, they had just finished lunch.

  Ying Qionglou stood and nodded. So the Emperor and Empress headed together to Jinhua Pavilion.

  When they arrived, a nanny from the Empress Dowager’s residence was already there.

  Fu Meiren couldn’t get up. Her personal maid hurried out to expin, “My dy slipped while descending the steps. We servants failed in our duties. Her ankle is badly sprained, and she hit her thigh quite hard.”

  “Where’s the physician?” Ying Qionglou asked.

  The imperial physician soon emerged and reported, “Replying to Your Majesties—Fu Meiren’s ankle was dislocated. I’ve already reset it. The thigh injury isn’t serious, but she’ll need time to heal. Her waist is also bruised. It’s best she rests for a few months.”

  “She fell that badly?” Wumian raised her brows. “I’ll go see her.”

  Inside the bedchamber, Fu Meiren’s face was pale, her eyes rimmed red. Though her hair had been tidied and she leaned against a brocade pillow, the traces of weeping and pain still showed—she looked rather pitiful.

  “Your Majesty the Empress, forgive me—I cannot rise,” Fu Meiren rasped hoarsely.

  “Don’t try to move. Didn’t the physician say your waist is hurt? Is sitting like this okay?” Wumian walked over.

  “Replying to Your Majesty, the physician said this position is better for now. Lying ft pulls on the pain more,” the maid answered.

  Wumian nodded. “Alright, I understand. Just focus on resting. No need to come pay respects for now. Still… you should’ve been more careful—this injury won’t be easy.”

  She didn’t comment on Fu Meiren’s disheveled state or any unusual circumstances. Everyone in the pace had their own schemes—Wumian couldn’t be bothered to pry.

  “Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. I will take care of myself,” Fu Meiren said.

  Wumian nodded. “Then I’ll leave you to it. I’ll let the Empress Dowager know as well.”

  Outside the room, she turned to the Emperor. “She’s alright, just in pain. Your Majesty isn’t going in to see her?”

  Ying Qionglou shook his head. “She can rest. I won’t go in. I have matters to attend to. Will the Empress come with me?”

  “Of course, I’ll accompany Your Majesty,” Wumian said with a smile.

  Once they left Jinhua Pavilion, Wumian sent Zhaohua to inform the Empress Dowager.

  Ying Qionglou gnced at her but said nothing. When they reached the gate of Fengyi Pace, he said, “You may go back. I’ll come by tonight.”

  Wumian nodded. “Alright. I’ll prepare Your Majesty’s favorite dishes and wait for you.”

  Ying Qionglou reached out and gently ran a finger along her cheek before turning to leave.

  Wumian raised her brows—what was that supposed to be? Flirting?

  Well, fine. They were a legally married couple. If he wanted to flirt, let him flirt.

  “Your Majesty, this maid feels that something’s off about Fu Meiren,” Linshui whispered.

  “She’s been in the pace for over three years now and has never been favored. His Majesty hardly visits her,” she added.

  “Yes,” Wumian nodded.

  It was true that Fu Meiren wasn’t favored—and it didn’t even seem to be because of any need to suppress the Empress Dowager’s maternal family. The Fu family, while a prominent household, wasn’t especially powerful or influential.

  The Empress Dowager had indeed supported her niece Fu Meiren, but it didn’t seem like she had ever intended to elevate her.

  Most likely, it was simply to maintain some superficial marital tie between the Fu family and the imperial household.

  The Emperor and the Empress Dowager were genuinely close as mother and son—there was no false affection between them—but it was clear the Emperor had no fondness for Fu Meiren.

  And yet, Fu Meiren wasn’t unattractive—she certainly looked fine. There was no apparent reason for her to be this unfavored.

  And yet… she was.

  “There’s something strange about this incident. With so many servants attending her, how did she end up falling like that?” Linshui added.

  Wumian nodded—it was suspicious. At first, she’d thought maybe there had been a quarrel, but there was no sign of any altercation.

  “If you find anything out, then fine. But if not, don’t get involved. With the Empress Dowager watching over her, we’d do well to stay out of Fu Meiren’s affairs. Go pass on my word to the harem: tell everyone not to disturb her during her recovery. She doesn’t seem like someone who likes being fussed over anyway.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Linshui said and went off to carry out the order.

  It wasn’t a major incident, so Wumian didn’t dwell on it.

  That night, when the Emperor arrived, she had already ordered the meal to be id out.

  Ying Qionglou gnced at her clothes and smiled. “You look good in this color.”

  Today, Wumian wore a deep violet gown—a very regal shade.

  “If it pleases Your Majesty, then it must be good,” Wumian replied casually.

  “But you’re a little under-accessorized,” he said, brushing lightly against one of her earrings. “Add a hairpin with dangling ornaments next time—something graceful and swaying. It’ll make you look even more beautiful.”

  “All right. If I go out next time, I’ll dress as His Majesty advises,” Wumian smiled at him.

  Ying Qionglou nodded in satisfaction. “Let’s eat first.”

  After dinner, the Emperor had a few memorials to review. He wasn’t the type to guard the inner pace jealously. Unless the contents were cssified, he often brought memorials along when visiting other paces.

  It was just that, in the past, Wumian had been clueless and overly talkative, so he rarely brought any to her quarters.

  But today was different. When the Emperor called for ink to be prepared, Wumian quietly ground the inkstone without a single unnecessary word.

  As the Emperor read through the documents, Wumian picked up a piece of paper and began to write.

  She jotted down whatever came to mind.

  When the Emperor finally finished and turned to her, he saw her shaking her head.

  “What’s wrong, Empress? Not satisfied with your writing?”

  Wumian set down her brush and pointed to the character “玉” (jade) at the end of the page. “It’s too round—no structure to it at all.”