A Concubine's Competitive Life in the Prince's Household-Chapter 130

The Princess Consort felt as though she had plunged into an icy abyss. She stared at her husband in disbelief, unable to fathom how such heartless words could spill from his lips.

"Your Highness, this concubine has exhausted herself for our children. Even if I’ve occasionally been remiss, you cannot treat me this way!" the Princess Consort exclaimed, aghast.

Prince Yan’s eyes only darkened with greater disdain. Without another word, he turned and strode away, his sleeves flicking dismissively.

Her legs gave way beneath her, and the Princess Consort staggered before collapsing onto the ground. Her fingers clawed frantically at the air until they seized Granny Liu’s arm like a lifeline. "Granny Liu, His Highness... has he truly decided to divorce me for those lowly concubines?"

She could scarcely believe this was anything but a nightmare.

Granny Liu helped the Princess Consort inside, soothing her, "My lady, His Highness spoke in anger. You are of the illustrious Tantai family, noble in status and mother to two sons. No one can shake your position—Prince Yan would never cast you aside."

Yet the Princess Consort’s heart ached as if pierced by needles, her mind blank with shock.

She racked her brain, muttering to herself, "Someone must have poisoned His Highness against me... Yes, it must be Yao'er! I merely reprimanded her earlier, and now she’s gone crying to the prince, making him blame me. That wretched girl—I never should have given birth to her!"

Tears streamed down her face as she hurled her prayer beads into the snow, a tempest of emotions churning within her.

Granny Liu, ever rational, advised, "My lady, the pressing matter now is to provide the winter coal for the concubines in the rear courtyard. If another life is lost, His Highness may indeed hold you responsible."

Rubbing her temples, the Princess Consort ordered, "Summon Steward Fugui. I must question him—what kind of duty has he been performing?"

...

...

The snow fell ceaselessly into the depths of the night, piling into a thin layer atop the parasol beneath which Prince Yan trudged, body and soul weary.

His thoughts flitted between the snow disasters plaguing the northern peasants, the frost ruining crops, and the court’s relief efforts finally showing promise—then to Liu Ruyan’s unreasonable tantrums and the Princess Consort’s negligence.

A splitting headache gnawed at him.

Only when the little eunuch holding the umbrella murmured, "Your Highness, we’ve arrived at Liuli Pavilion," did Prince Yan look up.

In the bitter cold of the snow-laden night, the doors of Liuli Pavilion stood wide open, two warm carp lanterns swaying from the eaves. Under their golden glow stood Shen Wei, wrapped in a thick fox-fur cloak, a heated hand warmer cradled in her palms as she peered into the distance.

The moment she spotted Prince Yan returning through the snow, her face brightened with a tender smile. "Your Highness, you’re back."

Amidst the freezing chill, Shen Wei alone radiated warmth.

Her soft, soothing voice washed over Prince Yan, dissolving much of the exhaustion weighing him down.

His gaze softened with emotion.

Suddenly, he understood the life he yearned for: one where he upheld his duties in court, navigating political strife and securing his standing in Qing State’s imperial hierarchy, only to return home to a woman who loved him. A sanctuary where he wouldn’t be burdened by petty domestic squabbles, where nights were spent in intimate conversation before drifting into peaceful slumber, limbs entwined.

Such a simple dream—yet one he had waited years in vain to grasp.

"Your ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‍Highness, your hands are freezing." Shen Wei stepped forward, pressing the warm hand warmer into his palms before brushing the snow from his shoulders. Then, with natural ease, she clasped his icy fingers and led him inside.

The room was blissfully warm.

When Shen Wei moved to remove his damp cloak, Prince Yan stopped her. "I’ll manage."

Touched that she, heavy with child, had braved the cold to wait for him, he refused to let her exert herself further.

After changing into sleep robes and soaking his feet in hot water, they settled into bed together.

Shen Wei had prepared the bedding meticulously—fluffy and warm, with another heated hand warmer tucked beneath the covers so the moment they slipped in, the bed was already cozy.

The soothing scent of sleep-inducing incense lingered in the air.

Though drowsiness tugged at her, Shen Wei resisted sleep—custom forbade her from resting before the prince.

She squeezed his hand gently. "Your Highness, is Sister Liu Ruyan’s illness grave? You seem too troubled to sleep."

Prince Yan shook his head, thoughts still tangled in the chaos of his household. "Weiwei, my heart is unsettled."

Though her network of informants had already relayed the clash between Prince Yan and the Princess Consort in Qixue Pavilion, Shen Wei feigned ignorance. "Has Your Highness encountered difficulties in court? If only this concubine understood state affairs—I wish I could ease your burdens."

A sigh escaped him, some of the tension loosening. "Mere trifles. You needn’t worry—focus on the child."

Shen Wei smiled earnestly. "Then once I’ve given birth, I’ll help share your troubles."

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In truth, she understood Prince Yan perfectly. After grueling days in court—locked in power struggles with Prince Heng’s faction, wary of assassins at every turn—he craved only hot meals, a warm bed, and tender words before sleep.

Yet what greeted him at home? The Princess Consort bickering with Granny Liu over the children; Liu Ruyan sulking for attention; concubines freezing to death from withheld coal; his daughter wailing after maternal scolding; even his own sons shying away from him...

No wonder he was exhausted.

Shen Wei silently vowed: once she secured her higher status after childbirth, she would wrest control of the household from the Princess Consort. If the Princess Consort couldn’t manage the estate, she would—flawlessly.

She would ensure Prince Yan’s home was a haven, free of trivial nuisances. The smoother his days, the more indispensable she became—and the greater the rewards she could reap from his favor.

To her, Prince Yan was a mountain of gold and silver. Under his protection, her wealth and status were guaranteed for life.

Deliberately, she nuzzled his hand. "If Your Highness won’t sleep, then this concubine and our child will stay awake with you all night."

Prince Yan chuckled, pinching her rounder cheek affectionately.

He adored Shen Wei. In her presence, he could truly unwind.

Though her pregnancy had denied him physical satisfaction for months, lying beside her—listening to her gentle voice, breathing in her subtle fragrance—fulfilled him in ways beyond the flesh.

She was his confidante, his solace... the "home" he could no longer imagine living without.

Darkness deepened; the snow ceased.

Prince Yan drifted into slumber.

Shen Wei nestled against him, her eyelids fluttering shut as she, too, succumbed to sleep.

...

...

After her bout of illness, Liu Ruyan, plagued by melancholy, remained frail. Her delicate constitution worsened post-recovery—even short walks left her breathless and coughing, reliant on daily doses of bitter medicine.

As for the neglected concubines in the rear courtyard, they too received sufficient coal to survive the cruel winter.

Spring winds stripped the branches of lingering snow. Withered trees sprouted new buds, and as days grew warmer, the season of renewal arrived.