Chapter 258
**Chapter 256: A Reflection by Yang Xuanji**
The queen's hand was icy, sending a chill through Li Chengzhen as if a venomous snake had coiled around him. He suppressed his inner resistance and forced a smile, "I understand, Mother."
Li Chengzhen spent nearly half an hour in Kun Ning Palace, enduring the queen's incessant chatter before he finally managed to escape. He hurried out, standing on the dark palace path like a fish that had just leaped from the depths of despair, gasping for fresh air.
The cold night wind tousled his hair, and the palace maid behind him cautiously asked, "Your Highness, shall we return to the palace?"
The sound of crickets chirping echoed from the corner of the palace path. Li Chengzhen closed his eyes for a moment, "Return to the palace and summon those little eunuchs."
The maid's face showed hesitation. "Your Highness, if the Emperor and the Queen find out... they will surely be angry—ah—"
Before she could finish, Li Chengzhen kicked her away with a fierce shove. The maid trembled in fear, not daring to utter another word.
...
...
On the same night, by the shores of Luoyue Lake on the outskirts of the capital, the night breeze was chilly. In a pavilion by the lake sat a frail figure. Yang Xuanji had a small bamboo lantern at his feet, creaking in the wind.
"Master!"
"Master is over there, hurry and tell the Mistress."
Voices of young servants drifted from the lakeside.
Before long, Yang Xuanji's wife, Luo Shi, hurried over. Though she was getting on in years, her temper was still fierce. She approached him, scolding, "You old fool, why are you out here by the lake at this hour instead of resting at home? If you want to jump into the water and die, at least do it at home."
Despite her harsh words, Luo Shi draped a warm cloak over her husband's shoulders.
The young servant retreated outside the pavilion.
Luo Shi sat beside Yang Xuanji, her concern evident. "You went to the palace today and came back in a daze. Did the Emperor and Empress punish you?"
Yang Xuanji tied the cloak around himself, his eyes slightly open, his expression vacant. He turned to Luo Shi and asked, "My dear, I pride myself on my vast knowledge and learning. I used to think that all else was inferior, and only reading was supreme... but today I realized that the foundation of this nation is built by those I once looked down upon as 'inferior.'"
Luo Shi was puzzled, reaching out to touch Yang Xuanji's forehead. "You don't have a fever, so why are you talking nonsense? Come home with me, have a couple of bowls of ginger soup, and then sleep."
But Yang Xuanji seemed entranced, suddenly grasping Luo Shi's hand. "My dear, you may not understand teaching and nurturing, and I may not know how to cook soup or embroider. But you are a good wife, and I am not an all-knowing scholar."
Luo Shi couldn't make sense of his ramblings. She grabbed his arm, exasperated. "If you want to learn embroidery, I'll teach you another day. You have your strengths, and I have mine; I’m not inferior to you."
The couple left the lakeside pavilion.
Yang Xuanji followed his wife in a daze, but suddenly his mind cleared.
Yes, you have your strengths, and I have mine!
No matter how clever that little prince Li Chengtai was, he lacked the age and experience of Yang Xuanji! He could learn from the little prince, just as the little prince could learn from him.
There are priorities in learning, and each has its own expertise; together, they can progress and complement each other.
Yang Xuanji burst into hearty laughter, his joyful voice carried far by the night wind. "My dear, tomorrow I will go to the palace and ask the Emperor for permission to teach the Eighth Prince how to read!"
Luo Shi's eyelids twitched. "Someone, bring ginger soup for the Master!"
Though he drank the ginger soup, Yang Xuanji had spent half the night in the chilly breeze by the lake, and the next day he fell ill.
Illness struck like a landslide. Yang Xuanji, already advanced in years, felt dizzy and disoriented.
As a respected elder statesman, Yang Xuanji was attended to by imperial physicians sent by Li Yuanjing.
This news reached Changxin Palace. In the courtyard of Changxin Palace, the begonia flowers bloomed brightly. Lu Xuan sat under the eaves, watching an old nurse teach her one-year-old son to walk.
Lu Xuan had a difficult pregnancy this time, often unable to sleep at night and frequently vomiting. Despite taking many medicines to stabilize the pregnancy, she could only rest in the courtyard to ensure the baby’s safety.
"Your Highness, Yang Xuanji is bedridden. Three senior physicians from the Imperial Medical Bureau have gone to treat him," reported the maid Xiao Qin.
Lu Xuan pondered for a moment, murmuring, "The Consort wants Yang Xuanji to teach the Eighth Prince. After a dispute with the Eighth Prince, Yang Xuanji fell ill upon returning home... how amusing, truly amusing."
Lu Xuan had thought that Shen Wei was different from the Queen.
But today, she realized that Shen Wei was no different from the Queen. Both were focused on their sons' education, forcing them to study.
The Queen's son had either died from overstudying or had become psychologically twisted at a young age, losing all prospects. Now, Shen Wei was treading the same path as the Queen.
"Pulling up seedlings to help them grow only leads to endless troubles." Lu Xuan gazed at her son, who was just beginning to speak, a smile flickering in her eyes.
Lu Xuan instructed Xiao Qin, "Go spread the word in the palace, saying that the Eighth Prince is so unruly that he made Yang Xuanji sick."
Yang Xuanji was a respected figure, and many officials in the court were his students. If they learned that their esteemed teacher had fallen ill due to a mere child, they would surely harbor resentment towards the Eighth Prince.
If Shen Wei wanted her son to inherit the throne, Lu Xuan would work to tarnish the Eighth Prince's reputation early on.
A prince who made his teacher sick—how could he win the hearts of the officials?
Xiao Qin nodded eagerly. "Rest assured, Your Highness, I will take care of it."
Xiao Qin left Changxin Palace. In the courtyard filled with blooming begonia flowers, Lu Xuan's one-year-old son took his first wobbly steps. Lu Xuan watched him with a beaming smile, hoping he would grow up quickly.
...
...
In Xiangyun Hall, Liu Qiao'er sat beneath a parasol tree, threading a needle to make new clothes for her child. Ever since Shen Wei took charge of the harem, the monthly allowances of silver and fabric for the concubines had never been short.
With summer approaching, the Internal Affairs Bureau had even measured the sizes of the little princes and princesses to make summer clothes.
But Liu Qiao'er did not trust Shen Wei. The new clothes sent to Xiangyun Hall carried a faint, elegant fragrance, and Liu Qiao'er always felt something was off, fearing they might harm her child. So, she personally sewed clothes for her child.
Even the meals sent from the imperial kitchen were not trusted; she tested every dish with a silver needle for poison before allowing her child to eat.
"Your Highness, I heard that the Eighth Prince made Yang Xuanji ill," whispered a maid attending Liu Qiao'er.
Liu Qiao'er shook her head with a smile. "Rushing growth leads to failure. The Eighth Prince is only four years old; Consort Shen is too impatient."
The maid sighed, "Consort Shen is quite capable, suppressing Shu Fei and holding power over the six palaces."
Liu Qiao'er was also somewhat surprised.
In Liu Qiao'er's memories from her past life, Shen Wei had died early in the Yan Wang's residence. She never expected that in this life, Shen Wei would rise like a phoenix, cutting through obstacles to become the most powerful woman in the harem.
Liu Qiao'er shook her head, her hands never pausing in their work. "Being too ostentatious can backfire. Just wait and see; Consort Shen will eventually reap what she sows. Shu Fei, the Queen, the Empress Dowager—none of them are fools."
Shen Wei's excessive showiness and poor parenting would eventually lead the Emperor to grow weary of her.
The maid serving Liu Qiao'er remained silent, not echoing the criticism.
Deep down, she held a measure of respect for the new Consort who had taken charge of the harem.
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