The Deposed Crown Prince had Three Lifelong Regrets - Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The Emperor went forward to check her breathing. She had already passed away.

He had barely witnessed this scene before he already suspected the midwives had overstepped their bounds, saved this stillborn, and tragically harmed his wife.

He slammed the table fiercely in a fit of rage, yet he forcibly suppressed it and went to look at Zhu Lingyi.

It was only when he reached Lingyi’s side that he finally saw the baby in her arms, eyes closed and smiling happily, extending two plump, lotus-root-like arms, constantly reaching upwards.

He only lingered for a moment, his gaze then moving to the Noble Consort reclining on the bed. Only when she managed to cling to a breath and squinted at him did he feel slightly relieved.

The midwives and physicians knelt on the floor behind him, holding their breath, not daring to make a sound. In the inner palace, the Empress managed the overall affairs, but Noble Consort Zhu, though neither striving nor competing, was the most favored.

This favor did not come out of nowhere. It was said that when the Emperor was still out of power, the two had reached an understanding.

She would help him secure the throne and ensure a prosperous, long-lasting reign. In return, the one on the throne had to treat her maternal family well; as long as the imperial relatives did not commit unforgivable sins, they were only to be mildly warned and punished.

The couple were deeply affectionate, yet because the Zhu family was establishing merits on the frontier, the Empress had still not been formally instated in Jinling.

The Emperor’s intentions were vague, and Noble Consort Zhu was stingy and inflexible, which inevitably caused dissatisfaction among the servants, who secretly grew lax and embezzled items delivered by the Imperial Household Department.

With too many sordid things happening in the corners, some inevitably became obvious.

Yet, she consistently ignored it all. Consequently, the Empress’s Palace became a habitat for ‘ghosts at night’ (disobedient people), with an increasing accumulation of servants like ‘rats crossing the street.’

This was truly a great oddity in the inner palace.

The midwife’s knees were sore and aching, her liver and guts splitting with fear. She looked down at the baby girl in her arms. This second infant was also a girl. The sister born before her had died of cessation of breathing, but this one, at birth, had scales all over her body.

She had thought the Emperor seeing this would be their doom, but who would have thought that the moment the delivery room door was opened, the baby’s scales completely faded, revealing delicate, wrinkled, light-red skin.

The midwife’s years of experience allowed her to judge that this child had large eye sockets and a refined nose and mouth. She would likely grow up to be a great beauty.

Though the nose wasn’t high now, the bridge of the nose would grow with age, while the eyes would not.

Those who were born beautiful wouldn’t necessarily be better off than this small, shriveled, ordinary-looking baby girl at birth.

The difference was simply that one was beautiful at birth, and the other would become beautiful as she grew up.

The redder and more wrinkled a child’s skin was at birth, the fairer and smoother their skin would be when they grew up.

But the more she resembled an ordinary child, the more afraid the midwife became. In the beginning… it clearly wasn’t like this.

Lu Fengmian’s brain was terribly chaotic. Her consciousness flickered in and out, but she continued to scrutinize the child.

Is she Li Qinghuai?

The closer she got, the more the dizzy, swollen feeling screamed. Even maintaining stillness offered no relief from the discomfort.

The furniture, forged from ebony, seemed to shimmer in a trance. A warm sensation poured into her eyes and nose.

She lifted her hand to wipe it away, and it was a splash of bright red.

She was slow to realize that she was bleeding from her seven orifices. Lu Fengmian inhaled deeply to calm herself for a long time, then slowly squatted back down onto the floor.

“Your Majesty, this child has a problem.” The midwife couldn’t understand why she had spoken out. Afterward, she completely forgot how she stood up or what happened in between.

The Emperor sat on the bed guarding the Noble Consort. Hearing this, he turned unhappily, “What is wrong? Was it a mistake in your delivery process?”

Trembling on two shaky legs, she slowly rose and carried the child to him.

“This child was born with greenish-blue scales, but the moment the delivery room door was pushed open, the scales faded away upon meeting the air.”

The Emperor’s frown deepened. The silent period felt like a slicing knife, cutting into the flesh and blood of everyone kneeling in the hall.

The dragon-patterned sleeve was gently clutched. Lingyi strained to prop herself up halfway and shook her head weakly.

Her moist hand moved continuously downward, resting on the Nine-Five-Sovereign’s hand. She still did not know the news of the stillbirth; the only living child was her solace.

Immediately, the Emperor let out a hearty laugh: “Hahaha, this is a propitious sign! It is an auspicious sign granted to me by Heaven!”

Lu Fengmian inexplicably felt that everything was wrong, and her expression gradually became one of pity. But she herself was unaware of these changes.

“Pass down the decree: this daughter will take her mother’s surname and be named Zhu Lingwei, may she symbolize pure beauty and always rise upward,” he paused for a moment and added, “She is granted the title Wenchang, meaning culture will flourish forever.”

His hawk-like, sharp gaze fell upon the outspoken midwife.

“As for you, you are old. It is time for you to leave the palace and enjoy your remaining years. When the time comes for you to leave the palace in two years, report to the Empress, and let her send you out.”

Her knees instantly gave way, and the woman knelt on the floor, repeatedly kowtowing and begging for mercy.

The matter of dismissal from the palace had been separated from the Empress’s authority since the year before last and was managed by Noble Consort Zhu.

Given this, the implication of his words was self-evident.

Slandering an imperial daughter—her servant needed to obtain the principal’s forgiveness, but this matter…

Despite the repeated pleas for mercy, the Emperor showed no intention of altering his decree. The Noble Consort was utterly exhausted, lying on the bed with tears welling in the corners of her eyes, powerless to defend her.

The Emperor did not genuinely wish to kill her; the Empress would intervene in such matters sooner or later, and the midwife’s chance of survival rested entirely on luck then.

He didn’t want the noise to disturb the Noble Consort and waved his hand, dismissing most of them, leaving only two medical officers to monitor the situation.

The midwife’s forehead was bloody from kowtowing. Before being dragged out, she was still begging for mercy for her younger son, pleading not to implicate him, as he had just passed the Imperial Examination at the Juren level.

Her hoarse screams were utterly powerless in the face of the royal dignity.

“Wait a little longer. When the war in the Northwest is settled, I will officially name you Empress.” Once it was quiet, the Emperor stroked her face, speaking with affection.

Zhu Lingyi felt no love for him; she was only concerned with long-term mutual benefit. She turned her head to avoid his touch, yet she continued to give a slight, mocking laugh.

If they could treat each other with respect, only meeting once a month or once a year, that would also be fine.

Royal familial affection was thin, and it was the same for the women in the harem, like fish fry. But was she not equally cold-hearted? She had once secretly betrothed herself to the Tanhua (third-ranking scholar), yet on the eve of her wedding, she married the Prince most likely to ascend to the throne.

She liked the clinging Lingxiao (trumpet vine) flower that only rested on the highest branches, those who climbed and attached themselves to power.

There was no love between the Emperor and the Noble Consort, only the camaraderie forged from mutual support during their ignorant youth.

“I truly don’t know why you are so generous to your servants. You haven’t failed to learn the art of governance. The maternal family of Concubine Yu must be suppressed, but the frontier is still at war. Why go to such lengths?”

With everyone gone, the Emperor changed his self-address.

He spoke plainly, as if the person on the bed was merely an advisor, not his current Noble Consort and future Empress.

There were trusted aides remaining, but also physicians who were accidentally pulled into the conspiracy. They trembled with fear, worried that they might hear another secret in the next moment.

Zhu Lingyi gave a soft “Hmph.” Two different types of people could not sleep in the same bed. To put it nicely, they were kindred spirits; to put it harshly, they were two snakes in the same hole.

She had abandoned the man she loved to become the most honored woman in the world.

She had been a little worried that he might not be as far-sighted and mindful of the big picture as she was, and that he might shake her position for the sake of the woman brought in from outside the palace.

Now it seemed her judgment was never wrong.

Feelings are the most fleeting; love never lasts. The two of them were mutually manipulative; their interests were reciprocal, and the primary premise was to look out for each other. The trust forged through years of support was no less than that of any close aide.

She had already said everything she wanted to say, and now she had no strength left. Zhu Lingyi was too lazy to bother with him and gently closed her eyes.

The Emperor sat and kept her company for another two or three hours before leaving, certainly giving her ample respect.

Ringing in her ears and blurring vision. Lu Fengmian lowered her head to catch her breath, slowly opening her blood-red eyes. She blinked hard again.

Each time she opened her eyes, there was a brief moment of clarity. After dozens of repetitions, she finally realized the pool of blood was flowing from her own face.

Fortunately, there were no mirrors here; otherwise, seeing herself in this state, she probably wouldn’t fare well even upon waking up.

Likely because the advisor had manipulated public opinion, soon everyone in the city, the countryside, the palace, and among the populace knew that an unusual phenomenon had accompanied the Princess’s birth.

Azure clouds circled the sky, and the Imperial Mausoleum received three days of heavy rain.

The birth of this girl was the desire of the common people, the will of the masses.

Six months later, Noble Consort Zhu had fully recovered her vitality. Looking at the same rain curtain as the day she suffered greatly, she felt a profound sense of melancholy.

The child was cared for by a wet nurse and occasionally brought to her. She had a great deal of free time.

She had once analyzed the meaning of the imperial decree with her husband, but now she had to spend the rest of her life in this inner palace. Having gained everything she wanted, she realized it was this boring.

She was too lazy to demand anything more. The green mountains and clear waters outside the palace no longer held much attraction, and the extravagant life she dreamed of was merely so-so.

If asked what her current goal was, it was the pacification of the Northwest war and the expansion of the frontier.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t manage these matters. The true decisions on war were made in the court and on the front lines. Occasional suggestions from the inner palace were useless.

What is it that I want, that I seek?

Even I no longer know.