A Quiet Homecoming

Chen Yao's days in the palace weren't all that different from her time at the Shen residence.

She'd never been one for lively company anyway. At the Shen estate, she'd kept to herself, rarely venturing beyond the inner quarters, spending whole days in the backyard with a book or at the qin, or checking the household accounts at the start of each month.

Now that she was empress, with the Empress Dowager spending most of her time in the Buddha hall, Chen Yao wasn't required to pay frequent respects. Still unfamiliar with palace affairs, she left the daily management to the Bureau of Palace Affairs and the Directorate of Imperial Manufactories, with them reporting to her each day.

So her days remained fairly leisurely—if anything, even more carefree.

After all, if she wanted to read, the palace's collection of rare editions and unique manuscripts was far more extensive. Even storybooks could be custom-made to her taste. If the mood struck, she could summon a troupe to perform any play she fancied.

Better yet, Yuan Wangshu and Qu Zhujun often came to the palace to keep her company.

And the best part of being empress was that she no longer had to endure the wearisome round of banquets at other estates, nor the careful maneuvering they required.

Yet, despite the outward calm, spring gave way to autumn, and she'd been married into the palace for nearly half a year. Xiao Mingting's vigor was unflagging—almost every night...

But still, there was no sign of life in Chen Yao's belly.

The imperial physician merely said she was "slightly deficient in qi, with adequate blood," clearly indicating her body was fine.

It wasn't that she was desperate for an heir, but the emperor's heart was notoriously fickle. For now, Xiao Mingting treasured her like a pearl, but how could she gamble on the longevity of imperial affection? Without a child to anchor her, she couldn't help but feel insecure.

Chen Yao lowered her eyes, watching the pond near the pavilion. That conspicuous plump koi was still there, its red-gold tail swaying as it glided freely.

Behind it trailed a series of tiny, colorful fry with translucent scales—perhaps its offspring.

She raised her hand and scattered the fish food into the water, watching the fish scramble. A faint melancholy settled on her delicate face.

"Host, what are you plotting now?" System 04 watched its host's performance with a hint of bewilderment.

Chen Yao frowned, indignant. "What kind of talk is that? You make me sound like I'm always up to something."

System 04: "..."

And why not? Judging by her expression, she was clearly gearing up for mischief.

"You don't get it. I'm just staying in character," Chen Yao declared with conviction.

"I can't know—since I'm not able to conceive—and with Xiao Mingting looking like he has endless energy to burn every night, yet my belly stays quiet, I'd be weird not to have some thoughts after nearly half a year, wouldn't I?"

But as for her physical condition, the imperial physicians had taken her pulse so many times they must have long figured it out.

She guessed Xiao Mingting knew too, but he might be afraid she couldn't take it, so he was keeping it from her for now.

System 04 thought it over and found the logic sound, so it agreed, "Mm, you have a point."

"Right?" Chen Yao raised her chin smugly, an invisible tail practically wagging behind her.

*

So when evening came…

As soon as Xiao Mingting stepped into Qifeng Palace, he sensed the tension in the air.

He saw the girl sitting on the couch by the window, gazing blankly at the night sky, and frowned instinctively.

He walked over slowly, and with a natural motion, reached out from behind to gently circle her slender waist.

Chen Yao's small body gave a slight shiver, as if only then realizing he'd arrived, but she obediently leaned into his hold.

"Why is YaoYao sitting by the window? Aren't you afraid of catching a chill?" Xiao Mingting said softly, a note of disapproval in his voice.

Although the weather hadn't fully turned cold, autumn nights were heavy with dew, and her constitution was weak—she needed to be more careful.

Chen Yao lowered her eyes and said nothing.

Xiao Mingting tightened his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head, and continued, "And the palace servants said you only took a few bites at dinner."

Chen Yao was silent for a moment. She knew Xiao Mingting's controlling nature well—he surely had servants watching her every move.

So she pressed her lips together and softly explained, "Your consort has eaten enough."

Xiao Mingting arched an eyebrow.

The girl tried her best to hide it, but if you paid attention, her little gluttonous nature was hard to disguise.

"You had so little. Are you really full?"

As he asked, his large hand on her waist shifted slightly, and his palm settled directly over her lower belly.

The soft, plush feel against his palm wasn't fat, more like stroking a kitten's belly—absurdly endearing.

But he noticed that even though she ate plenty, she never put on weight, remaining as slender and delicate as ever, as if a gust of wind could blow her over.

It made him constantly worry whether he was taking proper care of her.

The man's palm was warm, like a hand-warmer even through her clothes, and it was soothing, so Chen Yao didn't pull away.

But of course, the hand was resting on her stomach...

Even before, her restless thoughts from the day only multiplied.

She blinked, and a wave of grievance surged up from her heart.

Xiao Mingting waited for a while, but the girl in his arms didn't speak.

Before he could ask again, he felt her shoulders begin to tremble, and soon, muffled sobs reached his ears.

"Why are you crying all of a sudden?"

His heart tightened. He pulled back slightly and lifted her chin with his hand.

Her face was streaked with tears, eyes red and swollen, tears falling like broken beads, yet she kept her lips pressed together, refusing to make a sound.

"YaoYao, be good," he said, his thumb gently wiping away the tears at the corner of her eye, his touch so soft it seemed he feared breaking her. "Tell me, what's wrong? Did someone upset you? Or are you feeling unwell?"

He carefully reviewed what the servants of Qifeng Palace had reported about her day.

But she'd done nothing out of the ordinary—stayed in her chambers reading and playing the qin, or strolled the Imperial Garden to watch the fish and admire the flowers. She'd seen no outsiders, and nothing had happened to displease her.

This uncertainty about her mood darkened his gaze.