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

Shen Wei and Sun Qingmei were chatting in the courtyard villa. Meanwhile, at the heart of Falling Moon Lake, within the lakeside pavilion, Zhao Yang was also preparing for a heartfelt conversation with Yan Yunting.

A gentle breeze rippled across the emerald waters, tousling the loose strands of hair at Zhao Yang’s forehead. Bathed in sunlight, her eyes sparkled with blissful joy as she gazed affectionately at Yan Yunting.

“That man reeks of the jianghu—hardly a decent match. Your Highness ought to be cautious,” Yan Yunting warned with a frown.

The youth in brocade robes gave Yan Yunting an overwhelming sense of unease.

Mo the Divine Physician was undeniably handsome, clad in flowing white robes and wielding a folding fan—the very image of a rakish libertine who dallied among flowers. Yan Yunting couldn’t help but worry that Zhao Yang might be swayed by his honeyed words, with unthinkable consequences.

Seated on a stone stool, Zhao Yang grinned playfully. “He’s just a wandering physician.”

Yan Yunting scoffed, unable to mask the sourness in his tone. “A mere commoner, nothing more.”

How could a princess of noble birth stoop to fancying a commoner? The very idea would invite ridicule.

Seeing Yan Yunting’s jealousy, Zhao Yang knew his heart held a place for her.

Her heart bloomed with delight, and she smiled knowingly. “He’s no ordinary physician—his skills are extraordinary. Yan Yunting, who are you to dictate what this princess does? I shall return for a lively chat with the Divine Physician. Do not disturb me.”

With that, she deliberately turned to leave.

But before she could take more than two steps, Yan Yunting seized her wrist. Frowning, he lowered his pride and said, “Your Highness, this humble official has something to tell you.”

To hasten his rise in rank, he needed to undertake a stint of training at the border—shortest half a year, longest three to five years. With his departure imminent, Yan Yunting couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Zhao Yang behind, nor could he stomach the idea of her growing close to another man in his absence.

Zhao Yang turned back, her eyes crescent moons of amusement. “What is it?”

Yan Yunting began, “I—”

But just as he spoke, a servant from the Yan family rushed over in a fluster. The servant glanced at Princess Zhao Yang before whispering urgently into Yan Yunting’s ear, “Young Master, something’s wrong—Miss Tantai Rou has suddenly fainted.”

Yan Yunting paled. Rou’er had collapsed?

He immediately turned to leave and check on her.

Yet after a few steps, he hesitated and looked back. There, in the lakeside pavilion, stood Zhao Yang in her vibrant red robes, bathed in the crisp sunlight, her gaze tender and longing as she watched him.

Yan Yunting’s heart stirred.

Zhao Yang had chased after him for years—even a heart of iron would have softened over time. But he was merely a vice minister, far beneath the golden pedestal of a princess.

This ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‍time, volunteering for the border expedition was his bid for a swift promotion. Only once he achieved the rank of marquis or chancellor, with status to match hers, could he wed Zhao Yang without inviting scorn.

His heart held affection for Zhao Yang—and for Tantai Rou. He couldn’t bear to part with either.

With a gentle smile, he took Zhao Yang’s hand, his rare sincerity shining through. “There’s an urgent matter at home I must attend to. Tonight, at the hour of Xu, I’ll wait for you at the East Lake Pavilion.”

Zhao Yang’s heart fluttered wildly.

This was the first time Yan Yunting had ever taken her hand of his own accord!

She beamed. “Don’t be late, or this princess will be very cross.”

Yan Yunting bowed slightly. “This official shall arrive punctually, rain or shine.”

In his mind, Tantai Rou had merely fainted—he’d check on her and return swiftly. Nothing would delay his meeting with Zhao Yang tonight.

Watching Yan Yunting’s tall figure recede into the distance, Zhao Yang’s spirits soared. She picked up the hem of her skirt and skipped joyfully back to the courtyard villa.

…

“Her Highness has returned.”

Inside the villa, Shen Wei, who had been chatting with Sun Qingmei, heard the maids’ announcement outside.

Shen Wei turned to see Princess Zhao Yang return, her face radiant with happiness.

Lunch was served—an array of delicate Jiangnan dishes laid upon the table.

Zhao Yang, in high spirits, ate heartily.

At the table, Shen Wei observed the princess’s elation with quiet surprise. Whatever Yan Yunting had said to her, it had clearly left her in excellent humor.

It was Mo the Divine Physician who spoke bluntly: “Your Highness, forgive this commoner’s impertinence, but a man’s words are not to be trusted.”

Zhao Yang paused mid-bite.

Mo seemed lost in painful memories, his expression somber. “A man’s tongue is a devil’s deceit. I, too, suffered dearly from it once.”

Such peculiar words nearly made Zhao Yang choke. Sun Qingmei’s eyes widened, and Shen Wei stared at Mo in disbelief.

Mo took a sip of wine and sighed. “Don’t look at me like that. I am a man—and no one understands men better than other men.”

Zhao Yang giggled, dismissing his words as a jest.

After lunch, Shen Wei and Sun Qingmei strolled along the lakeshore to aid digestion.

The breeze from Falling Moon Lake was refreshing against their faces, a welcome respite from the mild heat. Shen Wei silently resolved that one day, when she had the means, she’d build a villa by this very lake—a summer retreat for cooling off and admiring the blossoms.

A carriage from a marquis’s household came speeding toward them, halting abruptly by the shore. The curtain swept aside, and a young woman in a pink dress stormed out. “Sister-in-law! I’ve been worried sick at home, and here you are, leisurely strolling by the lake!”

The girl was delicate in appearance but scowling furiously.

Her gaze flicked to Shen Wei, recognition dawning. At Princess Zhao Yang’s birthday banquet, Shen Wei had received the Empress’s favor—an impression many noblewomen hadn’t forgotten.

The girl sniffed. “And now you’ve befriended a prince’s concubine. Have you no regard for the South Garrison Marquis’s Mansion’s reputation?”

For the lady of a marquis’s household to mingle with a lowly concubine was a disgrace.

Sun Qingmei quickly interjected, “Qianqian, don’t speak nonsense.”

This was Shangguan Qian, younger sister of the South Garrison Marquis, Shangguan Xuan. Shangguan Qian pursed her lips. “Sister-in-law, where’s the hibiscus lip rouge I asked for? If I don’t have the finest rouge for the Chancellor’s lotus banquet tomorrow, I’ll be humiliated!”

Sun Qingmei replied gently, “The hibiscus lip rouge is expensive and sold out in the capital. Perhaps another shade will suffice?”

Shangguan Qian’s face fell. How could she bear to be outshone by other noblewomen?

She glared at Sun Qingmei. “Before my brother left for the border, he entrusted the entire household to you out of trust—and this is how you treat me? You’re utterly heartless! When my brother returns, I’ll tell him everything!”

With a huff, Shangguan Qian spun on her heel—only to trip on her own skirt. She stumbled, then plunged into the icy lake with a splash.

Water sprayed everywhere.

Sun Qingmei, skilled in swimming, immediately dove in after her. The shallows weren’t deep, and Shangguan Qian hadn’t submerged completely, but she shrieked in panic, flailing so wildly that Sun Qingmei nearly lost her grip several times.

After much effort, Sun Qingmei finally hauled Shangguan Qian ashore.

Drenched and trembling, Shangguan Qian burst into tears, then rounded on Sun Qingmei in fury. “This is all your fault! If not for you, I’d never have fallen into the lake!”