MCSCPM -Chapter 245 Something Terrible Has Happened

What Chu Fengjiao couldn’t stand the most was being confined.
Her mother consort losing her temper like that was something she had never seen before. On top of that, the slap had left her both shocked and heartbroken.

He Ningxiang ordered the palace maids to escort her back to her room and commanded them to keep strict watch—no one was allowed to let her out. Anyone who disobeyed would be severely punished.

“Fengjiao, it just so happens that you should make up for your studies these next couple of days,” He Ningxiang said. “I’ll have books brought to you. Read properly, and in two days I’ll test you on them.”

Chu Fengjiao stomped her feet in anger. “Mother Consort, in the past you ignored whatever I did. Today, just because of this matter, you actually hit me! I’m telling you— the more you stop me from seeing Yin Qingyue, the more determined I’ll be to see her. You can lock me up for a day or two, but you can’t lock me up for a lifetime!”

She stormed off in a huff, full of resentment, while He Ningxiang could only sigh helplessly.

Feng’er was the emperor’s first son, yet the emperor favored Prince Jing and paid little attention to her own son. How could she accept that?

She knew very well what Lan Rao was after—trying to win over Prince Jing. That was why she kept Yin Qingyue in the palace. He Ningxiang absolutely did not want her daughter getting too close to Yin Qingyue; in the end, it would bring more harm than benefit.

Picking up the scissors she had set down earlier, she snipped at the flowers she had just trimmed. With one cut, the entire blossom fell to the ground, petals scattered everywhere.

That was He Ningxiang—overly calculating. What she couldn’t have herself, she wouldn’t let anyone else have either.

Elsewhere, in the Noble Consort’s palace.

Yin Qingyue was learning to make plum soup with Lian’er, and she was doing quite well.

Lian’er smiled. “Miss Yin, your hands are so nimble. I only taught you once and you already know how to do it.”

Yin Qingyue was crushing the washed plums and simply smiled without replying.

“Oh right, Miss Yin—how long will you be staying in the palace?” Lian’er asked.

“What? Are you urging me to leave?” Yin Qingyue teased.

“No, no,” Lian’er said quickly. “I just really want to stay by Miss Yin’s side. You’re kind—unlike other masters. I think that girl Mei’er must be very happy.”

“Happy?” Yin Qingyue smiled bitterly. They had fled from Xize just to survive—where was there any happiness? Mei’er had followed her through hardship, not comfort.

“Lian’er, how long have you been in the palace?”

Lian’er thought for a moment. “I entered the palace at seven. Counting it up, it’s been ten years. In those ten years, I served several masters, and later came to Noble Consort Lan’s palace to attend her.”

“Oh? Then does Noble Consort Lan treat you well?” Yin Qingyue asked.

Lian’er’s hands paused slightly. She forced a smile. “I’m just a servant—how could I dare hope for my master to treat me well? Being able to keep my life and have three meals a day is already enough. I don’t have Miss Yin’s good fortune.”

The bitterness in her voice was obvious. When Yin Qingyue looked at her, she saw tears glistening in Lian’er’s eyes.

“After so many years in the deep palace,” Lian’er continued softly, “I’ve long stopped hoping to leave. I barely even remember what the world outside looks like anymore.”

Yin Qingyue handed her the plums and gently patted her arm, saying sympathetically, “Lian’er, actually, life inside and outside the palace isn’t all that different. As long as you don’t make mistakes, nothing will happen. Though you all envy life outside, sometimes it’s not as good as you imagine.”

“Then Miss Yin, why not stay in the palace?” Lian’er’s eyes lit up with hope. “I’m willing to serve you for the rest of my life.”

“Lian’er, that’s impossible,” Yin Qingyue said gently. “I won’t stay in the palace for long—maybe I’ll even leave in the next couple of days. Don’t worry, I’ll speak to Noble Consort Lan and ask her to take better care of you.”

“You’re really leaving the palace? Noble Consort Lan treats you so well—why not just—”

“Alright, alright,” Yin Qingyue cut in, changing the subject. “Is the soup ready?”

Lian’er felt miserable. She truly didn’t want Yin Qingyue to leave, but what power did she have to make her stay?

She took the finished plum soup off the stove. The fragrance filled the air, steam rising.

“Miss Yin, look—”

Just as she was about to carry it over, Yin Qingyue turned around and bumped straight into her. The entire bowl of plum soup spilled, splashing all over Yin Qingyue as she staggered back several steps.

“Miss Yin, are you alright? It’s my fault—my fault!” Lian’er panicked and rushed forward, hurriedly wiping Yin Qingyue with a handkerchief.

“I’m fine, I didn’t get burned,” Yin Qingyue said, shaking her head and stopping her. Then she bent down to clean up. “Let’s tidy this up.”

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it,” Lian’er said, crouching down as well.

But the broken shards were very sharp. As soon as Yin Qingyue picked one up, it sliced her fingertip. Blood immediately flowed, and she murmured in pain.

Yin Qingyue herself wasn’t frightened by the blood—but Lian’er was. She burst into tears. “Miss Yin—this… Quick, let me stop the bleeding!” She hurriedly pulled Yin Qingyue into the room.

She brought ointment and bandages, crying as she cleaned the wound. “It’s all my fault. I’m always so clumsy and ended up hurting you. If the Noble Consort finds out, I’ll surely lose my life this time.”

“What nonsense,” Yin Qingyue said softly. “It’s just a small injury—why are you talking about life and death? Who goes through life without getting hurt? Don’t worry, the Noble Consort won’t punish you.”

“But I still caused you harm,” Lian’er said, then slapped her own face hard.

Yin Qingyue quickly grabbed her hand, saying angrily, “I already said it’s not your fault. If you keep doing this, I really will be angry.”

“Yes, I won’t do it again,” Lian’er said hurriedly.

Yin Qingyue sighed. The palace rules really were something she couldn’t get used to.

Yet for some reason, her chest felt tight and painful, a heavy pressure as though something was about to happen. She couldn’t guess what it was—only a deep, unfamiliar unease.

Was she overthinking?

But the feeling was real. She had always trusted her instincts. So what exactly had happened to cause this panic?

After bandaging her hand, Lian’er noticed her distracted look and asked softly, “Miss Yin, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Yin Qingyue replied, pulling her hand back. She walked over to the bed and said, “You may go now. I want to rest for a while.”

“Yes. I’ll come back later to change your dressing.”

Yin Qingyue had just sat down when Lan Rao came in.

Lian’er turned pale and quickly retreated to the side.

“Qingyue, I came to see you,” Lan Rao said.

Yin Qingyue hurried over to bow, deliberately hiding her injured hand behind her back.

“Get up. You don’t need to be so formal with me anymore,” Lan Rao said as she sat down and beckoned Yin Qingyue over. “Actually, I came to ask you something.”

Seeing how mysterious Lan Rao looked—and how frightened Lian’er seemed—Yin Qingyue said to Lian’er, “You may leave first. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Yes, this servant takes her leave.”

Once Lian’er was gone, Yin Qingyue asked, “May I ask what Your Ladyship wishes to discuss?”

“It’s about you and Prince Jing.”

“Prince Jing?” Yin Qingyue said softly. “I don’t quite understand what Your Ladyship means.”

“I’ll be straightforward. You already know Zhaoyi Liu’s intentions, don’t you? But both she and I still don’t know your intentions. I was anxious, so I came to ask you.” Lan Rao smiled.

The question was painfully direct. Yin Qingyue didn’t know how to answer—it was a dilemma. Saying yes wouldn’t do, and saying no wouldn’t either. Lan Rao was clearly putting her in a difficult position.

“Your Ladyship, Qingyue has no particular intentions,” she said carefully. “I’m just an ordinary woman—how could I ever aspire to become part of the royal family? Your question puts me in a difficult spot. I’ve said before that I like a quiet life—and I wasn’t just brushing off the Eldest Princess.”

Her answer was vague. Lan Rao pressed on, “But Prince Jing treats you so well. Do you truly have no thoughts about it at all?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Yin Qingyue replied.

Lan Rao thought for a moment, still unable to grasp Yin Qingyue’s true feelings. She smiled awkwardly. “Alright, I won’t force you. But as for Zhaoyi Liu’s side—?”

“Your Ladyship, you yourself know Prince Ling’s temperament. I don’t have the ability to make him settle down. Yet I can’t outright refuse Zhaoyi Liu’s kindness either, so… I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s fine. You don’t need to know what to do,” Lan Rao said with sudden confidence. “With me here, I’ll definitely help you resolve this trouble.”

At last, Yin Qingyue had given her another answer—that she wouldn’t accept Zhaoyi Liu’s goodwill.

Yin Qingyue said nothing more. Looking at the smug expression on Lan Rao’s face, she thought it was fine—let Lan Rao deal with Zhaoyi Liu. That way, she herself would be spared the trouble.

At that moment, Lan Rao noticed that Yin Qingyue had been keeping one hand hidden behind her back and asked curiously, “Qingyue, what’s wrong with your hand? Why are you hiding it?”

“It’s nothing, Your Ladyship. No need to worry.”

Lan Rao didn’t press further, but she seemed to understand something. After a few words of advice, she left.

Imperial Study.

Outside the Imperial Study, a group of guards rushed in from the palace gates, their hurried steps carrying a tense, ominous air. Their grim expressions foretold a major incident.

Eunuch Sun stumbled into the study, nearly falling.

“Your Majesty… Your Majesty—something terrible has happened!”

Chu Helian had just finished the last stroke of his calligraphy. He looked up and asked sternly, “What happened? Why such panic?”

With a loud thud, Eunuch Sun dropped to his knees. “Your Majesty—Prince Jing… Prince Jing… was ambushed by assassins on the road. His whereabouts are now unknown.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the brush slipped from Chu Helian’s hand and fell onto the paper, ruining the entire piece.

“What did you say?” Chu Helian’s brows knitted tightly.

“Prince Jing encountered assassins on the way to the prefectures. At present, his whereabouts are unknown,” Eunuch Sun said tearfully, head lowered, not daring to look up. Everyone knew Prince Jing was the emperor’s most valued son.

Hearing the news, Chu Helian narrowed his eyes, lips pressed tightly together. Worry and concern flickered unmistakably in his gaze.

After a long pause, he asked in a low voice, “Who did it?”

“Replying to Your Majesty… we don’t know yet.”

“Don’t know?” Chu Helian slammed his hand on the table. “Send people to investigate immediately. Dispatch more forces to search for Prince Jing—he must be brought back safely. And keep this matter quiet for now.”

“Yes. This servant understands,” Eunuch Sun replied.

Prince Jing being in trouble—setting aside the fact that he was his son—someone so outstanding was also invaluable to the nation.