Chapter 84

Chapter 84: Rein In That Bottomless Appetite of Yours!

The Third Princess, Xuan Ji, arrived in a swaggering red dress. Before she even reached the doors, that flame-bright color had already crashed into the palace servants’ line of sight.

She’d heard Lin Qing Xuan had entered the palace, and her heart wouldn’t stay still after that. She dressed to stun—bright, beautiful, alive—determined to show him what kind of world he belonged to once he took off that dull monk robe.

Instead of seeing him, she was met head-on by her own father’s fury.

In the Imperial Study, the Emperor was already unsettled by the changes in the heavens. The moment his eyes landed on Xuan Ji’s blinding red, his vision swam, his stomach lurched, and nausea surged up like a wave.

He gagged, harsh and helpless.

“Get out!”

That was all he managed before the room spun and he collapsed backward.

“Your Majesty!” the Empress cried, catching him, calling urgently for the Imperial Physician.

After a frantic scramble and a flurry of needles, the Emperor finally came around. He panted, face pale, and pointed toward the door with an expression of pure disgust.

“Tell… tell Xuan Ji to get out,” he rasped. “I faint just looking at her!”

Only then did the Empress understand: the Emperor had been angered into a swoon by the very daughter he doted on most.

In the past, ministers had submitted petitions against her like falling snow—accusing her of building a private manor, keeping male favorites, indulging in every pleasure.

The Emperor had waved a hand and crushed them all.

“My little Xuan Ji wouldn’t even step on an ant,” he had thundered. “And you claim she kills without remorse? Ridiculous!”

“At six, she could recite—word for word—the tale of a crown prince who cut his own flesh to repay his parents’ kindness. Even Dharma Master Ru Hai praised her for having a Buddhist nature. A child that kind—how could she not understand life’s worth?”

“Every time I visit Consort Li, I see Xuan Ji punished by copying sutras. Those tiny hands write delicate script, and her copies of the Ksitigarbha Sutra stack as high as a person! Which of your daughters has that patience?”

“I devote myself to Buddhism. Great Qian has temples by the thousand. My daughter could never be the villain you describe. Are you saying I raised her wrong? Are you slapping my face?!”

That shameless favoritism had slowly silenced the court.

And under that bottomless indulgence, Xuan Ji’s boldness swelled. Her cruelty and recklessness grew unchecked, until the people’s resentment had piled high enough to split the sky.

But today, her talisman failed.

The single “get out” hit Xuan Ji so hard she went blank.

She’d spent so long running wild outside the palace that she knew nothing of what had shifted within its walls. All she felt was her excitement drenched in ice water.

She had come for a monk—and instead was publicly humiliated by her imperial father.

Trembling with rage, she turned and stormed straight to her consort mother’s residence: the Zhao Hua Terrace.

The moment she stepped into the grounds, birdcages under the eaves erupted in shrill chatter, drilling into her skull.

She had never understood why her consort mother liked those sharp-beaked pests. They screamed day and night, loud enough to rot the brain.

She marched down the corridor and kicked the door open.

Inside, Consort Li leaned against a carved window, teasing a bright green parrot on its stand.

She was forty, yet her waist was still slender as a girl’s.

Sunlight fell across her face. Without heavy powder, her skin held a pearl-bright glow, and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes only made her look more intriguing, as if time had deepened her beauty rather than stolen it.

When she lifted a hand, the jade bangle at her wrist chimed—clear, lovely, almost sweeter than the parrot’s mimicry.

The palace maids outside peeked and sighed in secret. This did not look like an old favorite past her prime. It looked like a woman newly in favor.

Xuan Ji snorted inwardly. Of course she knew why. After giving birth, Consort Li had secretly taken youth-preserving pills to keep the Emperor’s favor.

They kept her young—and cut off her chance to conceive again.

Consort Li had never tried for a son to secure her position. That had always suited Xuan Ji just fine.

“Bang!”

Xuan Ji kicked over the gilded foot stove by the door. The copper rolled across the floor with an ugly clang.

Still not satisfied, she reached for the parrot.

“Insolent,” Consort Li said, voice quiet but iron-hard. “That was a gift from your imperial father. Touch it, and see what happens.”

“Consort Mother!” Xuan Ji’s eyes reddened instantly, grievance spilling out like a burst dam. “One by one, you all shout at me!”

Consort Li didn’t even lift her eyelids. She pinched a melon seed between her fingers and kept teasing the bird.

“Who would dare shout at our Third Princess,” she said sweetly—mockery dripping from every syllable. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve done outside. If I hadn’t covered for you, do you think that manor of yours would still be peacefully full of men?”

A slender, delicate-looking eunuch approached with a tea tray, head bowed, posture obedient.

“Princess, please have some tea.”

Xuan Ji flicked him a glance and understood at once. A competitive spark flared in her chest.

She couldn’t help herself—she let out a small laugh.

Consort Li’s expression hardened. She flung the bird feed in her hand to the floor.

“In front of me, put away those filthy thoughts.”

“When you came of age, I begged your imperial father to let you open that private manor. The point was for you to enjoy yourself without racing back to the palace at curfew.” Her voice turned cold. “Who knew you’d spend these years using it to keep men?”

“You’re an unmarried princess,” she pressed. “Do you not want a reputation? Do you have no shame at all?”

There was little warmth in her words. Between mother and daughter, affection was thin.

If Xuan Ji weren’t her own blood, Consort Li wouldn’t have wasted her breath.

“But imperial father told me to get out!” Xuan Ji snapped. That was the wound she couldn’t swallow.

“‘Get out’ was the mild version,” Consort Li said sharply at last, turning to look her up and down. “Do you even know what you wore into the Imperial Study today? That deadly red. Your imperial father has been ill for days. Even I have to choose the right moment to see him, afraid of provoking him. And you rush in dressed like that, begging to be scolded.”

She rubbed at the space between her brows, as if Xuan Ji’s clothing alone could summon a headache.

“Pack up that ridiculous manor and move back into the princess residence for a while. Your imperial father is unwell. If you don’t show filial duty now, when will you?”

Then, as if remembering something, she added with clear disgust, “And throw that dress away. Red from head to toe—you look like you crawled out of a blood pool. What kind of taste is that?”

“From now on, only plain clothing in the palace. Put away the silks and brocades. Wear cotton and linen. Haven’t there been enough petitions accusing you of extravagance and vice? And you still act as if nothing’s happening.”

Consort Li’s anger sharpened, forging itself into command.

“You will return to the palace,” she said. “Copy sutras for seven days and pray for your imperial father.”

“Fine…” Xuan Ji’s shoulders slumped, but she still tried to bargain. “Let me go back and pack first. I’ll return in a couple of days, all right?”

She was thinking of the handsome new men waiting at her manor.

“No,” Consort Li said, flat and final. “Tomorrow.”

Her gaze cooled. “If all you can think about is men, then I’ll have to find you a capable husband—someone who can keep you in line.”

Then, quieter, with a bitter edge: “But with your reputation now… what respectable young master in the capital would dare take you?”