A Concubine's Competitive Life in the Prince's Household-Chapter 84

Cai Lian and Cai Ping worked swiftly—Cai Lian ladled chilled cakes into bowls on the spot, while Cai Ping put her talent as a little gossipmonger to use, calling friends and gathering a crowd.

Soon, a long line of maids and eunuchs formed outside the pavilion, eager to taste the chilled cakes. The sweltering heat made their mistress’s generous offering all the more appreciated, and everyone was moved to tears of gratitude.

In front of the crowd, Cai Ping also brought bowls of chilled cake to Li Yao and Shen Wei.

Shen Wei smiled and said to Li Yao, “Try it, it’s quite delicious.”

Li Yao was hungry and didn’t hesitate, picking up a small white porcelain spoon and devouring it eagerly. After a few bites, she remembered the Princess Consort’s admonition to “chew slowly and savor your food,” so she slowed down.

One bowl wasn’t enough to fill her, but Li Yao was too shy to ask for more. She politely placed the empty bowl back.

By then, the ingredients in the wooden bucket were completely used up. Li Yao said softly, “It’s getting late—I still need to return and study tea-making. Thank you for the chilled cake, Lady Shen.”

With that, she hurried off.

A faint smile curled Shen Wei’s lips as she gently touched her still-flat abdomen. If she were to bear a daughter in the future, the child would never lack a bowl of summer-refreshing chilled cake.

Shen Wei lay back on her lounge chair and resumed reviewing the account books of her dessert shop.

...

Meanwhile, in a dessert shop on the streets of Yanjing, Ye Qiushuang was behind the counter, fingers flying over the abacus. The summer heat had prompted her to develop an affordable chilled cake for commoners, and sales were thriving.

The abacus beads clicked rapidly beneath her fingers.

Deep in calculation, Ye Qiushuang suddenly heard a teasing, frivolous voice: “Ah, what a lovely shopkeeper—though those dark circles suggest restless nights. ‘Three colds, two fevers, and seven parts full’—you ought to take better care of yourself, my dear.”

Ye Qiushuang was accustomed to such attention from male customers. Her delicate beauty often drew admiration, so she had even hired a martial-skilled attendant for protection.

She raised her eyes and offered a polite smile. “Welcome, sir. Our shop has recently introduced many delicious desserts—please, come in.”

The customer was a young nobleman, his skin pale and smooth, with sharp brows and phoenix eyes, two loose strands of black hair framing his temples. Slender and dressed in white with a folding fan, he exuded an air of effortless charm.

A faint scent of herbs clung to him.

Well-traveled as she was, Ye Qiushuang recognized at once that this man was no ordinary Yanjing aristocrat—he belonged to the wandering sort, the ones who roamed the jianghu.

The young man’s lips curved. “‘Weiyan’s Delights’—‘Alone amidst falling blossoms, under a drizzle, paired swallows fly’... A fine name. The shop’s name is poetic, the shopkeeper is beautiful—I wonder if the desserts are just as exquisite.”

Guided by the attendant, the young man took a seat in the private booth. With a graceful flick of his sleeves, he closed his fan, the cloud patterns on his white robes shimmering faintly.

Ye Qiushuang glanced at the fabric—Yue Kingdom’s exclusive cloud brocade, light as mist, worth a fortune per bolt. This man was clearly someone of importance.

The attendant brought out the shop’s signature desserts.

In delicate porcelain bowls lay glistening, artfully crafted sweets. The young man picked up a small spoon and sampled a dessert called “Mint Spring Mountain.” The moment it touched his tongue, his eyes widened.

Never had he tasted anything so delightful. Overjoyed, he declared, “Delicious! Attendant, bring me one of every dessert in this shop!”

Fifteen desserts in total soon covered his table.

Despite his slender frame, the young man had an astonishing appetite. Like a whirlwind, he devoured every last bite.

Before leaving, he even packed an extra serving of “Mint Spring Mountain,” tossed down more than enough silver, and strode out without waiting for change.

“How generous.” Ye Qiushuang pocketed the ten taels of silver, watching the extraordinary guest depart.

Stuffed to the brim, the young man swaggered toward his inn, planning to wash it all down with wine. But as he turned into a quiet alley, his steps halted. The breeze ruffled the loose strands at his temples, and his eyes turned sharp.

“Who’s your master, hm? You’ve been tailing me since I entered Yanjing.”

At his words, four black-clad Tiger Guards emerged from both ends of the alley.

One of them bowed respectfully. “Divine Physician Mo, His Highness Prince Yan has searched for you for years. He invites you to stay at Prince Yan's Mansion for a few days.”

Mo the Divine Physician’s fingers already held poisoned silver needles. “The four of you reek of bloodlust—your skills are formidable. What if I refuse? Will you kill me?”

The Tiger Guard remained composed. “Prince Yan said that if you decline, we are to inform the Grand Preceptor of the Yue Kingdom of your whereabouts.”

Mo stiffened, the sinister face of that man flashing before his eyes—the suffocating weight of those ritual robes covered in cursed sigils, the inescapable web dragging him into the abyss.

He had barely escaped. He couldn’t let that monster catch him again.

With a flick of his fan, Mo withdrew the needles. “Fine, I’ll go. But mark my words—ten days in Prince Yan's Mansion, no more.”

The Tiger Guard exhaled in relief. “This way, please.”

...

...

At ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‍dusk, Prince Yan returned to his mansion under the setting sun. It was only when Steward Fu Gui reminded him that he realized how long it had been since he last visited the Princess Consort.

The Crown Prince’s prolonged illness, Prince Heng’s scheming, the countless eyes at court watching for his missteps—if word spread that he neglected his wife while doting on a concubine, the scandal would be disastrous.

Prince Yan ordered Fu Gui, “Tell the kitchen to add steamed perch to tonight’s dinner at Glazed Pavilion.”

Fu Gui bowed. “At once, Your Highness.”

Inwardly, the steward marveled. Despite everything, the prince’s favor still lay with Glazed Pavilion. Over the years, many consorts had borne children, yet never had Fu Gui seen Prince Yan so devoted to a mere concubine.

Were it not for Shen Wei’s lowly birth and the censors’ scrutiny, her current favor would have already elevated her to the rank of secondary consort.

Prince Yan entered the Kunyu Courtyard.

The evening was stifling, the air thick with the mingled scents of incense and mosquito-repelling smoke—a cloying, unpleasant blend.

The Princess Consort greeted him with her maids, her expression indifferent, showing no particular joy.

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Exhausted from state affairs—the renewed border conflicts, General Shen Xingxiu and the Marquis of Southern Garrison’s request for additional provisions, the lengthy court debates—Prince Yan had hoped for warmth upon returning home.

But the sight of the Princess Consort’s lifeless face only worsened his mood.

Dinner was meticulously prepared.

A particular standout was the tofu stew—silken, savory, and perfectly seasoned.

After a few bites, Prince Yan turned to a eunuch. “Tell the kitchen to send tofu stew to Glazed Pavilion tomorrow at noon. A woman with child should eat more tofu.”

The eunuch hastily noted it down.

Seeing this, the Princess Consort sneered inwardly. Shen Wei had barely conceived, and already she was exploiting her pregnancy to demand ever more refined delicacies.

She must have whispered countless pleas into Prince Yan’s ear, leveraging her pregnancy to demand this and that.

The Princess Consort cautioned him, “Your Highness, it’s true that a woman with child requires delicate care. But if you indulge Shen Wei repeatedly, you’ll only fuel her arrogance and encourage her to push for more.”