A Concubine’s Competitive Life in the Prince’s Household

The night was sweltering, the sky thick with dark clouds. After leaving Fangfei Courtyard, Prince Yan returned to Liuli Pavilion, where two tiger guards at the entrance bowed in greeting.

Prince Yan raised his hand, signaling the servants to remain silent so as not to disturb Shen Wei inside.

He wanted to see how his Weiwei spent her evenings alone when he wasn’t around.

Delicate palace lanterns hung from the eaves of Liuli Pavilion, their pearly light spilling through the paper shades, casting a soft glow. Wind chimes dangled at the corners, tinkling gently with each breeze.

Another gust swept through—*ding ling ling*—the brass chimes sang once more.

Shen Wei had already finished her dinner and was now lounging in the waterside pavilion to escape the heat.

Prince Yan moved silently, peering through the translucent gauze curtains at Shen Wei, who sat in a rattan chair chatting with Cai Lian.

Cai Lian’s voice was laced with exasperation. "My lady, you’ve already had one bowl of chilled custard. You mustn’t have another."

Shen Wei waved her silk fan lazily. "It’s unbearably hot tonight—I couldn’t eat much. All I want is something cold. Cai Lian, fetch me another bowl."

Cai Lian hesitated. "My lady, you’re with child. If His Highness finds out you’re sneaking chilled desserts, he’ll be furious."

Shen Wei paused mid-fanning, her gaze flickering toward the shadow beyond the curtains. Deliberately nonchalant, she said, "If you don’t tell, and I don’t tell, how would Prince Yan ever know? Carrying a child isn’t so delicate. Back in my hometown, pregnant women work in the fields right up until birth."

Prince Yan, eavesdropping: *...*

A mix of irritation and helplessness churned inside him.

While the other consorts in his household meticulously guarded their diets during pregnancy, Shen Wei had no such restraint—no maternal instincts to speak of, sneaking icy treats without a care.

"So if I don’t come, you’ll indulge in chilled desserts behind my back?" Prince Yan’s cool, stern voice pierced through the thin curtains.

Shen Wei startled, jumping to her feet and parting the gauze. When she saw Prince Yan standing there in his dark brocade robes, she stammered, "Y-Your Highness! What brings you back?"

Guilt was written plainly across her face, as if she *wanted* him to see it.

Prince Yan stepped into the pavilion, and Cai Lian discreetly withdrew. Shen Wei, like a child caught misbehaving, refused to meet his eyes.

The sight was almost pitiable.

Prince Yan settled onto the cool rattan chair, expression severe. "Had I not come, how many bowls would my Weiwei have devoured?"

Shen Wei sat beside him, lifting a slender finger and wagging it with exaggerated conviction. "Only one bowl, I swear! Not a bite more."

Prince Yan inwardly sighed. *Without my supervision, this greedy little thing runs wild.*

He took Shen Wei’s soft hand in his, speaking earnestly. "Overindulging in cold food in summer could upset your stomach. What if it harms the child?"

Shen Wei nestled her head against his shoulder, murmuring with absolute trust, "With Your Highness protecting us, our child will surely be born safe and sound. I have no worries at all."

Her words and actions brimmed with reliance and faith in him.

As if, in Shen Wei’s heart, so long as Prince Yan was there, no hardship could touch her. It was both affection for the man himself and admiration for his formidable power.

Naturally, Prince Yan was deeply pleased. *She truly loves me—trusts me with all her heart.*

After a tender moment, Shen Wei suddenly lifted her head, bright-eyed. "Your Highness, today I was thinking of names for our child. I’ve come up with two wonderful ones."

Prince Yan arched a brow, intrigued. "Let’s hear them."

Shen Wei straightened, adopting a solemn tone. "If it’s a girl, we’ll name her *Li Cui’er*. *Cui* symbolizes vitality—I want her to flourish like spring."

Prince Yan’s eyelid twitched.

Undeterred, Shen Wei gazed at him eagerly. "And if it’s a boy—well, a man must be strong! So *Li Qiang*, meaning mighty and powerful. What do you think, Your Highness? Aren’t these names perfect?"

Prince Yan’s mouth tightened.

Faced with Shen Wei’s hopeful expression, he silently massaged his temples. *A daughter named "Cui’er" would never find a husband, and a son would be too ashamed to introduce himself.*

When Prince Yan remained silent, Shen Wei frowned delicately. "…Not good?"

Prince Yan shook his head. "*Not* good."

Shen Wei’s shoulders drooped. "Then I’ll keep thinking. There’s still plenty of time before the birth—I’ll come up with something suitable. If *Li Qiang* doesn’t sound right, how about *Li Tie*? ‘Iron’ represents unyielding strength. *Li Tie* is quite fitting too!"

A vein throbbed in Prince Yan’s temple. He caught her hand with a sigh. "*I* will name the child. You focus on resting."

Among Prince Yan’s children, sons were traditionally named by the Emperor and Empress, while daughters were named by their birth mothers.

But as his gaze drifted to Shen Wei’s still-flat abdomen, he resolved: if she bore his child, *he* would choose the name.

The daughter of Prince Yan of the Great Qing Kingdom could *never* be called "Li Cui’er" or "Li Qiang"!

Shen Wei’s eyes sparkled as she lavished praise. "Your Highness is peerlessly talented, your wisdom boundless! Any name you choose will far surpass my humble suggestions."

This, too, was part of Shen Wei’s strategy.

Throughout her pregnancy, she would steadily reinforce the child’s presence in Prince Yan’s heart. A child he personally cared for and named would naturally receive his deepest paternal affection.

And with that affection would come security—for the child’s future, and for her own position as the birth mother.

After the stifling heat came a sweeping wind, followed by a summer downpour. Hand in hand, Shen Wei and Prince Yan retreated to the bedchamber. Rain drummed against the roof tiles, and soft, unrestrained murmurs occasionally slipped through the night.

Outside, ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‍the brass chimes swayed in the storm, their crystalline notes ringing through the tempest.

Nanny Rong passed through the courtyard with two eunuchs carrying hot water. Glancing up at the chimes, she allowed herself a faint smile.

Prince Yan was unpredictable—sometimes arriving at Liuli Pavilion without warning. So Shen Wei had devised a countermeasure: altering the wind chimes, threading a thin wire through one.

Whenever Prince Yan approached unnoticed, Nanny Rong, keeping watch, would tug the wire—three deliberate chimes to alert Shen Wei:

[*His Highness is sneaking in.*]

"What a clever mistress," Nanny Rong mused. Serving such a sharp-witted lady guaranteed a bright future for a humble servant like her.