A Concubine's Competitive Life in the Prince's Household-Chapter 89

Mo the Divine Physician extended three slender, pale fingers.

The Crown Princess and Prince Yan exchanged puzzled glances.

Prince Yan asked, "What does this mean?"

Mo the Divine Physician shrugged and sighed, "His Highness the Crown Prince's constitution was severely weakened in his youth, and overwork has further deteriorated his health. Even if I exert all my efforts, I can only grant him three more years at most."

The room fell into dead silence.

The Crown Prince, leaning against the bed, wore a resigned, bitter smile. The Crown Princess's nose stung with unshed tears as she struggled to hold them back.

"I'll write the prescription," Mo the Divine Physician said, stretching lazily before turning to Prince Yan. "Your residence is stifling—in a few days, I plan to visit the lake. Don’t even think of stopping me."

Though Prince Yan's estate was luxurious, staying within its walls day after day had grown unbearably dull. Mo longed to wander outside and admire the summer lotuses blooming on Yanjing’s lakes.

Prince Yan nodded. "Very well."

With that, Mo strolled leisurely out of the Crown Prince’s chambers.

Prince Yan, however, remained weighed down by sorrow as he approached the Crown Prince’s bedside. "Elder Brother, don’t lose hope," he said solemnly. "I will find better physicians for you."

The Crown Prince patted Prince Yan’s hand and smiled faintly. "Yuan Jing, our father is old and ailing, my time is short, and the Yue Kingdom watches us greedily while the Southern Zhao’s ambitions remain unchecked... Soon, this heavy burden will fall upon your shoulders."

Prince Yan lowered his gaze, his heart gnawed by invisible ants.

Over the past few years, as the Crown Prince gradually entrusted him with state affairs, Prince Yan had begun to suspect the truth. Yet he had refused to accept that his brother’s days were numbered. The two were blood brothers, having supported each other since childhood—their bond ran deep.

As dusk settled, Prince Yan returned to his residence with weary steps.

Empress Dowager had sent Nanny Qian to inform the late-returning Prince Yan that four elderly nannies had been assigned to Kunyu Courtyard. Meanwhile, the Princess Consort, heartbroken, had locked herself in the prayer hall, refusing to emerge.

Prince Yan went to check on his three children.

Li Yao, still weakened by poison, had already fallen asleep before nightfall. Prince Yan then summoned Cheng Ke and Cheng Zhen to his study.

Speaking calmly, he said, "From now on, the nannies will oversee your studies. There’s no need to stay up late finishing your lessons. You’re still young—there’s time to master etiquette, horsemanship, and archery gradually."

Both children bowed their heads.

Yet there was no joy in their expressions at Prince Yan’s decision. To them, their father was like a cat looming over mice—fear filled their hearts.

Li Chengke ventured cautiously, "Father... have you locked Mother in the prayer hall?"

Prince Yan rubbed his temples. "No."

But Chengke didn’t seem convinced, murmuring, "But... Mother has been crying there all day. Father, she’s your wedded wife. You shouldn’t treat her this way."

Having long heard the Princess Consort’s grievances, the children had come to see Prince Yan as a cold-hearted, faithless man.

They feared their mother’s oppressive moods and their father’s stern aloofness in equal measure.

Prince Yan’s heart turned to ice, as if doused by winter’s coldest water. A chasm had opened between him and his children—one he could see clearly now.

"Go rest," he said, exhausted, signaling for them to be led away.

The night grew darker.

Prince Yan sat alone in his chamber for a long time.

His beloved brother was dying, his children distrusted him, and his wife resented him.

For the first time, a profound sense of desolation crept over him. He was a prince of unparalleled status, and yet he felt like a man with nothing.

Slowly, ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌‍he rose and left the suffocating study. The humid night air pressed in as he wandered aimlessly, only to find himself before Liuli Pavilion. Delicate palace lanterns hung from its eaves, and the faint fragrance of lotus blossoms drifted through the courtyard.

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Silencing the servants’ announcements, Prince Yan stepped inside. Shen Wei sat at her desk, practicing calligraphy under the warm glow of candlelight. The soft radiance enveloped her like a gentle halo.

Head slightly bowed, she guided the brush with careful, deliberate strokes.

Prince Yan lingered in the doorway, watching silently. In the candle’s glow, Shen Wei seemed like a sun shining brilliantly in the night.

Sensing his presence, she looked up, her eyes lighting with joy. Like sunlight breaking through clouds, she set down her brush with a smile. "Your Highness, you’re back."

She hurried over, rising onto her toes to dab his forehead with a handkerchief. But as her fingers brushed his skin, Prince Yan seized her wrist abruptly.

His gaze bore into her as he asked, voice low and urgent, "Weiwei... will you ever leave me?"

Shen Wei understood this mood all too well.

He was drowning in melancholy.

A man in despair instinctively sought refuge for his soul. Since transmigrating into this world, Shen Wei had known Prince Yan only as a figure of unwavering pride, diligence, and authority—a ruler through and through.

This was the first time he had shown her his vulnerability.

And that was a good sign. It meant he had truly let her in.

Shen Wei clasped his hand in return, her eyes tender yet resolute under the flickering candlelight. "I will never leave you. In life or death, I stand by your side."

Prince Yan’s soul trembled.

He pulled her into a fierce embrace, his heart melting into hers.

Outside, rain began to fall, pattering softly against the roof tiles. Lying awake long into the night, Shen Wei studied Prince Yan’s sleeping face beside her.

The room was still, scented faintly with lotus blossoms. Her thoughts drifted—his uncharacteristic fragility today must stem from the Princess Consort’s actions. The woman had raised their children in such neglect that they were sickly and estranged from their father.

The Empress Dowager had intervened, dispatching four experienced nannies to Kunyu Courtyard to oversee their upbringing.

The Princess Consort would not take this lightly.

But that was no concern of Shen Wei’s. With the woman preoccupied by her children, she’d have less time to meddle with the concubines. Shen Wei’s pregnancy would be all the safer.

Her hand rested on her still-flat abdomen. She would not repeat the Princess Consort’s mistakes. She would ensure Prince Yan took part in raising their child, so that no rift would ever divide them.

...

That same night, in Kunyu Courtyard’s prayer hall, lamps burned bright.

The Princess Consort knelt before the altar, her prayer beads creaking under her grip. Granny Liu entered and knelt beside her. "My lady, the four nannies have taken charge of the young masters’ meals, attire, and studies."

The Princess Consort’s fingers tightened around the beads. The recent events had aged her overnight.

"Where is His Highness?" she whispered.

Granny Liu answered, "Tonight, the Prince stays at Liuli Pavilion."

The Princess Consort let out a hollow laugh.

Such was the fickleness of men. What loyalty did they have to old companions when fresh blossoms beckoned?