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

After a moment’s reflection, Shen Wei immediately understood Prince Yan’s intentions. The prince was likely worried that leaving Shen Wei alone in the Prince’s Mansion would make her an easy target for the Princess Consort’s schemes.

After all, when Li Yao was poisoned earlier, the Princess Consort had repeatedly pointed fingers at Shen Wei, arousing Prince Yan’s suspicions toward her.

Back when the Crown Princess was pregnant, she too had been secretly targeted by several concubines and side consorts. With such precedents, Prince Yan feared history might repeat itself, so he arranged for Zhao Yang Princess to take Shen Wei out of the mansion for a few days. Away from the Princess Consort’s watchful eyes, she wouldn’t be able to harm Shen Wei.

“Shen Wei, Second Brother treats you so well,” Zhao Yang remarked, a hint of envy in her voice.

Shen Wei responded with an appropriately bashful smile.

The painted boat glided away from the dock, drifting leisurely across the surface of Luoyue Lake. In the distance, mist-shrouded green mountains loomed, their slopes thick with lush trees. Below them stretched an expanse of emerald water, its surface dotted with endless lotus leaves swaying in the breeze, their blossoms peeking through like scattered jewels. Having been cooped up in the small courtyard of Liuli Pavilion for so long, Shen Wei found the vibrant scenery utterly refreshing.

“This ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‍pastry is delicious,” Sun Qingmei exclaimed after taking a bite of the lotus-flavored ice pastry, her eyes widening in surprise.

Zhao Yang chuckled. “It’s the new [Lotus Ice Pastry] from Wei Yan’s Bakery.”

Shen Wei also sampled a piece—cool, refreshing, with a delicate hint of lotus fragrance, as pleasing to the eye as it was to the palate. She reached for another, but Zhao Yang swiftly intercepted her. “Shen Wei, no more! Second Brother said you love icy treats in the summer, but he made me promise to stop you from overindulging.”

Shen Wei: “...”

Zhao Yang had never been one to police others before.

But she seemed to take peculiar delight in this new role, wielding Prince Yan’s instructions like a royal decree. For the rest of the boat ride, she alternated between admiring the scenery and keeping a hawk-eyed watch on Shen Wei, gleefully blocking any attempts at sneaky snacking.

Sun Qingmei stifled a giggle behind her sleeve.

Shen Wei silently sipped her tea, suddenly finding the blooming lotus scenery far less enchanting.

The boat cut through the lotus leaves, sending ripples across the lake’s surface. Few other vessels dotted Luoyue Lake, scattered like distant stars.

In high spirits, Zhao Yang nibbled on her dessert and announced, “The sun’s getting too harsh. Let’s head back to shore soon and have lunch at my villa. The chef there specializes in Jiangnan cuisine—”

Her words abruptly died in her throat.

Sensing the shift, Shen Wei glanced up and followed Zhao Yang’s gaze to another painted boat nearby.

It was an elegant vessel, its bow occupied by a young man and woman. The man, dressed in flowing blue robes, exuded an air of refined gentleness, while the woman beside him was delicate and demure, her beauty understated yet captivating.

It was Yan Yunting and Tantai Rou.

Shen Wei rubbed her forehead in exasperation, half-convinced Yan Yunting had some sort of tracking device implanted in him. How else could he always manage to cross paths with Zhao Yang so precisely—and so conveniently?

But Shen Wei didn’t believe in coincidences.

When things lined up too perfectly, it was usually by design.

She shot a worried look at Zhao Yang, expecting the princess to fly into a rage and order her guards to seize the “lovebirds.”

Instead, Zhao Yang remained eerily calm, her lovely eyes wide with disbelief.

“Princess,” Shen Wei ventured cautiously, “it’s getting rather hot. Perhaps we should return to the villa early.”

Zhao Yang’s eyes reddened. She stared fixedly at Tantai Rou’s hair, murmuring, “The same hairpin...”

Shen Wei froze, then turned her gaze back to Tantai Rou. The girl wore a pale green dress, her slender frame accentuated by a striking white jade-and-gold plum blossom hairpin nestled in her hair.

At Zhao Yang’s birthday banquet, Yan Yunting had gifted her an identical hairpin. Zhao Yang had treasured it, preserving it meticulously and only wearing it on special occasions.

She had believed it was one of a kind.

Yet now, there it was—on Tantai Rou’s head.

A dull ache settled in Zhao Yang’s chest. Part of her longed to confront Yan Yunting directly, but in the end, she merely said flatly, “Let’s return to the villa.”

Her mood ruined, Zhao Yang ordered the boat to turn around. The abrupt maneuver sent the vessel cutting sharply through the water—until it collided with a small, hidden skiff nestled among the lotus leaves.

Crash—

The skiff capsized.

“Princess! Someone’s fallen in!” cried Yun’er, the maid at the bow.

Snapping out of her daze, Zhao Yang tightened her grip on her folding fan. “Get them out of the water, now!”

No sooner had she spoken than a soaked paper fan landed on the deck with a wet slap.

A pale hand grasped the edge of the boat, and with a splash, a slender figure in drenched white robes clambered aboard.

Two guards immediately drew their swords, eyeing the sodden stranger warily.

“What in the—! I was napping in my boat, and you just had to ram into it?!” The young man pushed back his dripping hair, glaring indignantly. His robes clung to his frame, thoroughly soaked.

He plucked a large lotus leaf and held it in front of himself like a makeshift shield, his sharp eyes burning with irritation.

Shen Wei and Sun Qingmei gasped in unison: “Mo the Divine Physician?!”

Who would’ve thought the famed Mo the Divine Physician had been napping in the depths of Luoyue Lake’s lotus groves?

Wiping water from his face, Mo revealed a strikingly handsome, fair-skinned visage. Though initially furious, the sight of two beautiful women instantly softened his expression. “Well, well—Madam Shen, Miss Sun, what a delightful coincidence! Mind lending me some dry clothes?”

Realizing they’d caused the accident, Zhao Yang swallowed her pride.

As luck would have it, the boat carried a set of men’s robes—ones Zhao Yang had specially commissioned for Yan Yunting but never delivered.

She sized up Mo’s frame. He was slightly shorter than Yan Yunting, and the giant lotus leaf obscured his build, but men’s proportions were roughly the same. It ought to fit.

She instructed Yun’er to lead Mo inside to change.

The boat remained anchored amidst the thicket of lotus leaves.

“So that’s the Mo the Divine Physician you mentioned?” Zhao Yang asked Sun Qingmei.

Sun Qingmei nodded, memories resurfacing. “Before I was married, he recognized my aptitude for medicine and wanted to take me as his apprentice. I declined, much to his regret. Still, he gifted me three antidote pills capable of neutralizing any poison. I’ve never forgotten his kindness.”

Zhao Yang’s eyes lit up with excitement. “If he’s truly a divine physician, his skills must be extraordinary. My elder brother, the Crown Prince, has been unwell all year. I’d like to ask him to treat him.”

(She didn’t yet know Mo had already examined the Crown Prince.)

About half an hour later, Mo emerged from the cabin.

The robes Zhao Yang had ordered for Yan Yunting were exquisite—a moon-white brocade adorned with intricate cloud patterns along the collar and cuffs. Mo’s lean, slightly shorter frame made the garment hang loosely, clearly too large for him.

Yet his roguish, carefree aura suited the flowing sleeves, giving him an air of effortless charm.

With a casual salute, Mo grinned. “This humble physician greets Her Highness the Princess.”