After this incident, there were no more scheming or lazy servants in the Ji household.
Everyone performed their duties with utmost respect. After all, working for the Ji family was still quite comfortable. Their wages were also slightly higher than those in other households.
Meanwhile, Jiu Yue seemed like she wasn’t working, but in reality, she had more or less settled into a working routine—spending her days going back and forth between the General’s Mansion, the Eastern Palace, and the Imperial Palace.
Whenever Jiu Yue had a bit of resentment, Emperor Fengyuan would reward her with some kind of gift. No matter what the item was, there was always something.
And Jiu Yue, accustomed to taking favors with a soft smile, would quickly drop her sulky expression. Even Li Feng said that although Jiu Yue loved wealth, she obtained it in the right way.
This was also why Emperor Fengyuan doted on Jiu Yue so much. People are supposed to have desires—that makes them normal—but countless people cause misfortune because of greed. The admirable ones are those who obtain things righteously.
Time passed in the blink of an eye.
Jiu Yue withdrew her hand from the Crown Princess’s wrist, her fingertips feeling slightly cold, though the Crown Princess was completely oblivious to that and only gazed at Jiu Yue earnestly.
Jiu Yue met that gaze and didn’t bother to play mysterious or tease her. She slowly nodded:
“Happy pulse… it’s been over a month. Congratulations.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, the Crown Princess buried her face in her embroidered handkerchief and began to cry.
This should have been a joyful moment.
Jiu Yue felt an inexplicable sadness—not for anyone else, but for the Crown Princess herself.
The problem lay with the Crown Prince, yet because he was the heir, the future emperor of Great Qi, even Jiu Yue couldn’t reveal the truth to the Crown Princess.
Jiu Yue didn’t know exactly what the Crown Prince had said during this visit. But the Crown Princess blamed herself for not being able to give the Crown Prince an heir and had fully cooperated with Jiu Yue these past few months.
For months, she had swallowed bitter, difficult-to-digest medicinal soups, one bowl after another. The medicine was bitter, but the Crown Princess was extremely obedient. Whatever Jiu Yue instructed her to eat, or how to exercise, she followed it all to the letter.
All Jiu Yue could do was this—at least she could make childbirth slightly less difficult. Even if it only slightly increased the chances of a smooth delivery, Jiu Yue spared no effort in instructing the Crown Princess.
The Crown Princess nodded repeatedly, eager to tell everyone the news, but in the end, she bit her lip and told no one—except the Crown Prince.
Thankfully, the Crown Prince was considerate; because of his own condition, he could not father a child. So no matter the pressure from any side, he never forced the Crown Princess to bear it. This was his responsibility. If she hadn’t married him, she wouldn’t have had to endure any of this.
…
Jiu Yue listened blankly to Yingyi’s report: “What did you say?”
Yingyi looked a bit embarrassed.
It was now autumn. In past years, Emperor Fengyuan never had the mind to organize an autumn hunt—usually, it was just a formality. But this year, he wanted to do it in full. Perhaps because he had recovered from the poisoning and regained his health, he was ready to make a fuss.
Ji Yiqing and Ji Chaomian, one of seventh rank and one of sixth, normally wouldn’t be part of the hunting entourage. But Emperor Fengyuan worried something might happen during the hunt, so he included them—mainly to have an excuse for Ji Yiqing to bring Jiu Yue along.
They were specifically allowed to bring family members. To prevent Jiu Yue from pretending not to understand that “family member” meant herself, Yingyi personally came to inform her.
Otherwise, Jiu Yue might have sent Hu Chunhua and Ji Shan along with Ji Yiqing and Ji Chaomian to the hunt. She really didn’t see what was so exciting about hunting.
The gamekeepers would release the overfed, silly animals into the forest. Even someone who accidentally bumped into them could probably kill a couple of animals.
But Emperor Fengyuan had made it clear: if Jiu Yue didn’t go, it would be considered defying an imperial edict—she should be careful about her neck.
Jiu Yue lounged in the carriage, bored, while Ji Yiqing was cramped into a corner, handling official documents. After all, the rules for who could sit in which carriage varied depending on rank.
Jiu Yue was flipping through a storybook alone—ancient texts, all in classical Chinese! Utterly infuriating.
Jiu Yue slapped the book onto the table with a bang. Ji Yiqing looked up, knowing she was displeased, and picked the book up.
“I see a lot of people outside riding horses. Want to go ride?”
Jiu Yue wrinkled her nose: “No! What’s fun about riding horses?”
Then she looked at Ji Yiqing’s deliciously handsome face, narrowing her eyes slightly. Riding horses wasn’t as fun as Ji Yiqing.
Kicking off her shoes, Jiu Yue lazily rested her fair feet on Ji Yiqing’s knees.
Ji Yiqing’s brow twitched. Looking down, he saw Jiu Yue’s big toes wiggling mischievously. Hastily putting down his documents, he gathered her feet with his large hands: “Stop messing around.”
Jiu Yue giggled slyly and looked at him innocently: “I’m not messing around.”
Ji Yiqing was almost at his wit’s end. Leaning down, he grabbed Jiu Yue by the waist and pulled her into his arms: “If you don’t want to ride, shall I lull you to sleep?”
Jiu Yue pursed her lips, seeing Ji Yiqing’s flushed face, and said softly: “Alright, alright.”
She rested her head in his arms and immediately fell asleep. Ji Yiqing hadn’t even patted her back yet. Wasn’t he supposed to be lulling her to sleep? This gave him no sense of accomplishment.
Helpless, Ji Yiqing looked at Jiu Yue’s radiant sleeping face, leaned down, and lightly kissed her slightly parted lips. He grabbed a thin blanket from the carriage, covering her, especially her bare feet.
Adjusting to a comfortable position, he held her with one arm while picking up his documents with the other.
Fortunately, this autumn hunt wasn’t set in the capital suburbs—otherwise, what would be the difference from a simple outing?
After two days of carriage travel, they arrived at Sanguan Mountain. Rolling hills stretched before them, with forests tinged with autumn gold.
Officials, who had entered government service through the imperial examinations, wrote dozens of poems just at the mountain’s entrance. Jiu Yue felt dizzy from hearing them all; she only knew how to go “Wow, wow, wow…” at the magnificent scenery.
It was said that this trip to Sanguan Mountain was proposed by the Second Prince. Jiu Yue sensed a hint of conspiracy. She hoped Emperor Fengyuan had a flawless plan—truly a “welcome guest into a trap.”
Even though Jiu Yue didn’t play politics, after resolving the blood enchantment incident, she knew the Second Prince wasn’t his child. Yet Emperor Fengyuan hadn’t taken direct action against him. Jiu Yue guessed the emperor must have some plan.
No wonder Emperor Fengyuan insisted on bringing her along. If anything went wrong, her medical skills could come in handy.
Jiu Yue looked from afar at Emperor Fengyuan, surrounded and heading toward the enormous, luxurious central tent, resembling a mobile fortress. She silently prayed that nothing would go awry—otherwise, no one would have her back.
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