The Yonghe Palace shimmered under the silver glow of the moon. Golden rooftops, carved with dragons and phoenixes, reflected the lantern light, while red silk banners swayed softly in the breeze. Marble floors gleamed like still water, lined with red pillars engraved in gold. Incense smoke curled delicately in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of night jasmine. Every detail spoke of wealth, power, and centuries of tradition.
In the inner courtyard, Royal Consort Mei Lian played with her two-year-old son, Prince Yong rui, her emerald-and-gold embroidered robes spilling around her in flowing waves. Dragon and phoenixes intertwined across the silk, each stitch catching the flickering lantern light. Her hair was coiled high, secured with jade and gold pins shaped like cranes, while pearls and jade earrings swayed softly with her movement. Thin golden bangles chimed as she lifted her child, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. Her dark eyes glimmered with warmth and intelligence, yet beneath her smile lay the subtle weight of imperial responsibility.
Prince Yong rui's laughter echoed through the hall as he clutched a small carved wooden horse, worn smooth from constant play. Around them, attendants in muted silk uniforms adjusted lanterns and incense burners, moving silently as shadows across the polished floors. Lotus ponds in the courtyard mirrored the moonlight, petals glinting like scattered gemstones.
Far from the laughter of the Yonghe Palace, along the eastern riverbank within a private imperial pavilion, First-Rank Princess Li yue labored in a chamber draped with silk and lined with rosewood panels inlaid with gold filigree. The pavilion was nested among flowering plum and lotus gardens, with lattice windows opening to a gentle breeze carrying the scent of jasmine and the soft hum of a distant stream. Candlelight flickered across jade ornaments set into the walls, casting dancing shadows on the polished wooden floors. Braziers of fragrant herbs glowed warmly, filling the room with a haze of herbal aroma that mingled with the earthy scent of incense, soothing the tense air of childbirth.
The bed itself was a low, intricately carved platform of sandalwood, layered with silk cushions embroidered in phoenixes and celestial clouds. The princess reclined against them, clad in flowing lavender-and-silver robes, each thread shimmering as if catching fragments of moonlight. Golden threads wove phoenix motifs across her sleeves, and jade-green flames trailed along the hem like lingering spirits of fortune. Her hair, loose in gentle waves around her face, was secured with a delicate round gold hairpin of moonstone and gold, while a ceremonial lotus flower crown rested upon her head an intricate lattice of gold filigree shaped like rising flames, phoenix wings arching elegantly, and jade beads dangling with every subtle motion.
Her face, pale yet radiant under the candlelight, bore the flush of effort and anticipation. Large dark eyes glimmered with focus and determination, framed by silk tendrils that clung lightly to her forehead. Her lips were soft rose, quivering with exertion yet pressed together as she endured the labor pains with regal composure. Around her, midwives and attendants in muted silk moved quietly, attending to herbs, preparing birthing implements, and murmuring gentle reassurances. The room was alive with the quiet tension and sacred solemnity of a birth in the imperial family, every detail from the embroidered silk to the flickering shadows underscoring the weight of royalty
At last, the baby was giving birth and a loud cried was heard . All hands attended to the infant, gently cleaning her skin with warm cloths scented with peach blossom water wrapping her in silk swaddles embroidered with gold and violet threads. It was then that every eye fell upon the medium-sized, bold lotus mark blossoming across the top of her bottom, just above the hip bone. Its petals shimmered blue like the moonlight spilling over a quiet pond, while the edges glowed gold like the first rays of the rising sun. The mark seemed alive, whispering of a fate intertwined with both light and shadow. Gasps rippled through the attendants, yet fear and uncertainty kept them silent.
Amidst the flurry, Zhen hua, the First rank princess's loyal dowry maid, moved with silent purpose. She had long observed palace secrets and knew exactly what must be done. While midwives tended to the princess and baby, Zhen hua lifted the swaddled infant into a small woven bamboo basket, lined with soft silks to shield her from the chill. No one noticed her subtle movements her hands, trained to seem ordinary, betrayed nothing. Her heart pounded as she stepped lightly across hidden corridors and narrow staircases, her presence seemingly invisible.
Reaching a secret garden path, Zhen hua hurried through fragrant moonlit lanes. The river awaited beyond a cluster of bamboo and willow trees, its surface dotted with lotus flowers glowing in the moonlight. She set the basket upon a small raft, the infant safe within, and let the water gently carry her away, the current weaving through thick clusters of floating lotus. Every petal shimmered like scattered gems
Back in the mansion, the midwife composed herself quickly. With calm authority, she declared to the attending officials and servants:
"Your Highness… the child… she did not survive the birth. It is a stillborn, I am so sorry."
A silence fell over the chamber, heavy and suffocating. Then, Princess Li yue's composure shattered. She threw back her head, her wails tearing through the scented air like a storm unbound. Her hands clawed at the embroidered silk covering her, shaking with grief. Her large dark eyes overflowed with tears, streaming down her pale cheeks, while her voice rose and fell in sharp, piercing cries that echoed off the rosewood panels and jade ornaments. She screeched and sobbed of unspeakable loss, her agony raw and unrestrained, a grief fit for a woman born and raised up of as to to royal blood.
The sudden sound of her cries drew swift movement. The chamber door burst open as her husband, Prince Consort Jian yu, hurried in, his robe was of soft silver blue silk, layered lightly over a pale inner garment that brushed against his skin like His hair was gathered high with a gold filet, the top half tied neatly while the rest flowed freely down his back in a smooth, dark cascade. A few fine strands fell loose at his temples, softening his features and giving him a calm, unspoken allure.
His face was refined sharp brows, straight nose, and lips that curved faintly, as though he carried secrets the world could never guess. His eyes held both warmth and distance, deep as the night sky before dawn.
His face was etched with worry, sharp eyes glimmering with alarm as he look at her trembling body.
He knelt beside her on the silk-draped platform, his large hands gentle yet steady as they brushed her tear-streaked hair from her face. "Li yue… I am here," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, carrying the weight of calm authority and deep affection. He pressed a hand to her trembling shoulder, offering warmth and reassurance as his other arm enveloped her in a protective embrace. His golden-embroidered cuffs brushed lightly against her robes, the soft clang of jade ornaments on his attire chiming faintly with each movement.
Princess Li yue's sobs continued, but softened against the steady rhythm of his presence. His forehead rested briefly against hers, a grounding anchor in her storm of grief, and he whispered reassurances in a hushed cadence only meant for her ears. "We are not alone," he said, "You have me, and we will face this together." The words, gentle yet unwavering, began to temper the tempest of her sorrow.
Servants and attendants froze, their faces pale. Some averted their eyes, others whispered prayers. The midwife, composed but tense, maintained her stance, concealing the truth. The secret of the infant swaddled in Zhen hua's basket remained untouched, hidden among the lotus-filled river, where the moonlight shimmered on every floating petal.
The hushed room held its breath. The princess's cries gradually faded into ragged sobs, her body leaning against her husband's firm but comforting embrace. The weight of despair lingered in every shadowed corner, yet the presence of Prince Consort Jian yu offered a sliver of warmth and solace amidst the devastation. Beyond the walls, fate had quietly begun its weave, poised to reshaped the threads of light and shadow in ways no one yet imagined.