Upon hearing Prince Ji’s words, a rare expression of resentment appeared on Princess Ji’s face. Her delicate hands, resting in front of her, clenched slightly, but her eyes remained filled with disappointment as she looked at him. Seeing that her words had no effect on him, she paused, then adopted a concerned expression for Leng Mingye and asked pointedly:
“Your Highness, I know that apart from Qingrou, no other woman holds a place in your heart. Even though I have borne you a son and a daughter, your heart remains closed to me. But I, too, am worried about Ye’er. What if he cannot be cured? Have you considered the consequences? If he is not the heir, he will have fewer interactions with others and avoid gossip. Do you truly wish for everyone to know about his improper relationship with Princess Qingya? This would bring shame upon us all, inviting scorn from the entire kingdom and tarnishing the reputation of our household.”
“This is a matter between me and Ye’er, and does not concern you, Princess. Your duty is to remain a proper consort. If you have time, focus on your own wayward son instead. Should he cause trouble again, neither I nor Ye’er will clean up his mess. It is late—you should retire for the night. And remember: what happened with Ye’er today must remain a secret. Spreading rumors benefits no one.”
Despite her words, the princess’s displeasure and sorrow remained evident.
Truthfully, Prince Ji had never wished to marry her—it was only at the Dowager Empress’s insistence that she became his consort. When she entered the household, Qingrou was already pregnant. After Qingrou died in childbirth, the prince drowned his grief in wine, and in a drunken stupor, he unwittingly consummated his marriage with the princess.
Though she became his lawful wife, his heart forever belonged to Qingrou. No one could compare to her.
Even when he first met Qingrou, she was already carrying another man’s child. Yet, from that single encounter, his heart was irrevocably hers—her kindness, her grace, her warmth, and the care she showed him when he was neglected by his father. She alone had understood him, encouraged him, and helped him regain his confidence.
Later, when the current emperor ascended the throne, Prince Ji—though not sharing the same mother as the emperor or Prince An—was sent to oversee disaster relief in a distant province. It was there he met Qingrou again. Her counsel and guidance ensured the success of his mission, earning him the favor of both the emperor and the Dowager Empress, making him one of the few princes besides Prince An to enjoy imperial favor.
After Qingrou’s death, he had no affection for the princess. Yet, moved by her care for Leng Mingye, he accepted her as his consort.
Now, after twenty years, she had begun to reject Ye’er’s identity.
Seeing through her pretense of concern for his well-being while actually targeting his beloved son, Prince Ji regarded her coldly before turning away.
“Your Highness! Your Highness! Damn you, Lin Qingrou—you wretched woman! Even in death, you force me to raise your child! That bastard is not even the prince’s son, yet he holds the title of heir! Hao’er is the true heir of this household, not that—”
Her words only earned her further indifference. Though filled with bitterness, she could only watch as he walked away, her fists clenched in frustration. The injustice burned within her.
It seemed Princess Ji was not Leng Mingye’s birth mother—Leng Minghao was her true son. Unaware of this, Leng Mingye had always addressed her as “Mother,” just as Leng Minghao did. The truth was known only to Prince Ji and herself.
“One more thing—keep Ye’er’s identity a secret. If word gets out, you will lose your position as Princess Ji.”
Just as she was about to leave, his voice stopped her, his warning bringing fresh tears to her eyes.
“I… I understand, Your Highness.”
Her expression darkened with suppressed fury, but she lowered her head and walked past him.
For over twenty years, she had loved him, humbling herself to please him. She had even treated another woman’s child as her own, all to earn his affection. Yet, in the end, his loyalty to that child’s secret outweighed decades of devotion.
With a sigh, Prince Ji watched her leave, regretful but resolute. He was not heartless, but the promise he had made to Qingrou bound him. Even if it cost Ye’er’s happiness or his own conscience, the secret must remain.
Unbeknownst to him, Princess Ji’s resentment festered after their confrontation. The day passed in bitterness.
—
“Mother, may I ask you something? Do you have a moment?”
Despite the pain wracking his body, Leng Mingye had himself carried to Princess Ji’s courtyard by Qingfeng and Baiyu, determined to seek answers. Seeing the woman who had once doted on him but had grown distant over the years, he motioned for his attendants to set down his chair.
“Speak. Ask whatever you wish.”
Still reeling from her argument with Prince Ji, Princess Ji regarded him coldly. The sight of him—weakened and disfigured for the sake of some woman—filled her with irritation. Though his status had once brought her respect among noblewomen, she now found his presence unbearable. The knowledge that her husband still cherished Qingrou’s memory made it impossible to treat him as before.
Setting aside her embroidery, she replied indifferently.
“I wish to ask, Mother—am I truly your and Father’s flesh and blood?”
Her coldness stung. He had always revered her, yet no matter how he tried to please her, she remained distant. While she doted on his younger siblings, she had only ever been aloof with him.
Though he knew the question might anger her, the truth he had uncovered compelled him to ask.
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