By the time Mu Fengqia left the Empress's apartments it was already afternoon. The Empress had insisted she stay for lunch — the kind of warm, attentive hospitality that marked the Empress’s household. Truth be told, the food there tasted far better than in any other palace kitchens.
Mu Fengqia and Zhu Fei strolled along, half bored, when a commotion up ahead caught their attention. Mu Fengqia moved to investigate, but a small hand clutched the hem of her robe.
“Who do you think you are? Let go of my lady this instant,” Zhu Fei warned, eyes narrowing at the ragged child who had run up.
“S-sorry… help!” The boy glanced up at Mu Fengqia, then darted behind her as three eunuchs came chasing after him. He cowered there, trembling.
Mu Fengqia glanced at the thin, filthy child and then at the three eunuchs in pursuit. She frowned.
The eunuchs fell to their knees before her. “Your Highness Princess Tianlin,” the leader said.
“Stand.” Mu Fengqia’s voice was cool. “Which palace are you from?”
“From Fengluo Palace, Princess. The child behind you is our master’s charge.” The head eunuch pointed to the boy.
Mu Fengqia tried to place the palace name and the child, but nothing came to mind. She had never seen him before.
Zhu Fei murmured something in her ear. A flash of understanding crossed Mu Fengqia’s face. So there was one of the late emperor’s sons still alive after all—the rumor that Yuan Yuchuan had killed them all had been exaggerated. But what kind of life did such a child have, hidden away and neglected? A living shadow—how useful was that?
Mu Fengqia looked down at the boy, who was still clinging to her sleeve. A flicker of pity softened her features. “Go tell His Majesty I have taken a liking to this child,” she said abruptly. “Tell him I want him to stay with me for a few days.”
The eunuchs looked crushed. It was obvious the Emperor disliked this prince; if they presented the request to him, they might be punished for overreaching.
“Do you think my rank means nothing?” Mu Fengqia’s gaze turned icy. The three men shivered and hurried to agree.
“We understand, Princess. We will report to His Majesty at once.” Clutching at any sliver of hope, they went off to the throne room.
“All right, you can let go now,” Mu Fengqia told the boy.
He straightened, but she thought she noticed something different about him—some subtle change she couldn’t name. The boy bowed his head and introduced himself with surprising calm. “Thank you for helping me, Princess. My name is Yuan Yerui. I’m the late emperor’s youngest son.”
There was no pride in his voice, no tremor of surprise—only a flatness that suggested he had long ago learned not to expect much from his birthright.
“I see. For now, you’ll stay with me.” Mu Fengqia ruffled his hair. Perhaps it was a touch of misplaced maternal instinct; the sight of such a thin, small child pricked something at her ribs.
“Take good care of him,” she told Zhu Fei.
“Of course.” Zhu Fei’s eyes were guarded. Anyone who had survived growing up inside the palace like this could not be simple—there had to be cunning behind such survival.
Yuan Yerui stared at Mu Fengqia in disbelief. No one had wanted him; palace whispers branded him an ill omen. His mother had died in childbirth, and on the day he was born the Dowager Empress had inexplicably fallen and struck her head. From that day the boy had been cursed by reputation. Only his wet nurse had truly cared for him—and she, too, had died years ago. He had no one left.
He had run because he could not bear the hunger any longer, intending to sneak into the imperial kitchens for bread. The eunuchs had spotted him as he left the palace and pursued him. He had thought no one would ever show him kindness again—and now, oddly, someone had.
All the way back to Mu Fengqia’s apartments his small hand kept clutching her sleeve as if terrified she might vanish. Mu Fengqia barely protested; it was no trouble, and keeping him close made her feel useful.
Meanwhile, in the throne room, Emperor Yuan Yuchuan listened to the eunuchs’ report with a dark expression. Useless lot—couldn’t even keep an eye on a child.
He had known such a child existed, but had never felt threatened; the boy’s reputation made him harmless. Who in their right mind would rally behind a so-called ill omen?
“Take them away,” the Emperor snapped. “They neglected their charge—execute them. And as for Yuan Yerui, see that he’s properly tended in Princess Tianlin’s care. If there’s the slightest slip, I will show no mercy.”
He could hardly accuse Mu Fengqia of foul play now that she had brought the boy into her household; letting him die suddenly would only raise suspicion. Besides, a neglected spare prince wouldn’t sway anyone. If anything, keeping him alive—at least for now—served his calculations.
The eunuchs dropped their faces in stunned horror. They begged and kowtowed, but the palace guards were swift; the three men were dragged away without further mercy, and the throne room fell silent again.
“Your Majesty—should we keep the child or not?” one attendant ventured, bowing.
The lead eunuch, eager to flatter, offered a ready answer: “It’s entirely Your Majesty’s choice. If you keep him, it may be seen as magnanimous and win you some goodwill. If you don’t, another palace death is nothing in the grand scheme—especially for an unpopular prince.”
Yuan Yuchuan considered for a long moment. The boy had already been taken by Mu Fengqia. Better to let things be for now; if Yuan Yerui died under her roof, fingers might point back at him. He gave a final order, measured and cold. “Leave him be — for the time being.”