Chapter Text
Song Qiutong kept her posture straight and expression serene as A-Zhu, one of her maidservants, combed through her long, silky hair. Tonight– her night–had turned out like many others. The emperor never arrived.
In the beginning, after her ascension to the role of empress, he had visited frequently, even if his presence was often marked by a certain withdrawal. Song Qiutong had accepted his hesitance; as long as he remained within her reach, she could learn what pleased him—what kind of attention and humor caught his eye. His mind was occupied with a multitude of burdens, chaotic and unpredictable as he navigated warring sects, quelled rebellions, and managed internal affairs. She knew certain people weighed heavily on him; after all, he had upended the cultivation world. But now…
“My lady, I heard from Madam Yu that His Majesty went to the Red Lotus Pavilion,” A-Liu murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
A slight twitch crossed Song Qiutong’s hand within her sleeve. A-Zhu’s fingers paused in her hair, hesitating for a moment before continuing their work.
Red Lotus Pavilion… Chu-fei, that bitch! What is she doing?
“Is that so? That’s all right. I received a gift from him earlier, a sign that I’m on his mind and he’ll visit again soon.” She hardly believed her own words. An empty smile twitched at her lips, too forced to hold itself up.
A-Liu took a seat near the vanity table where the others sat and worked before, fiddling with her clothing while out of sight.
“My lady, you must be right. You are the most beautiful,” A-Zhu murmured, her hands deftly arranging water, oils, and cloth for her lady’s care. “I cannot fathom His Majesty’s thoughts, if I may speak plainly.”
Of course, I’m beautiful. That’s my only worth. Men would pay fortunes to possess and use me. Yet only one man has the power to wield that privilege, and still... who is this Chu-fei? Is she also a Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feast? If so, I should have heard her name. Her upbringing wasn’t exactly free, but those of her kind were rare enough that whispers would have reached her ears in the trade network.
Possibilities swirled in her mind. “A-Ran” seemed fond of her; he had once confided in her. Physically, she was acutely aware of her allure. The servants often praised their empress’s ethereal beauty and kind temperament. It wasn’t vanity—it was reality. Men desired her.
Yet a tight, vulnerable ache gnawed at her heart. What if… no, that’s impossible. She could endure this.
“A-Zhu, I’m tired and will retire early tonight. Tomorrow, I want to take a walk. Prepare my clothes and lay out the last set of jewelry His Majesty gifted me. You know where it is.”
“Yes, my lady,” A-Zhu pronounced.
“A-Liu, the next time you go out, listen closely. Find a reason to visit where the servants on the other side of the peak are stationed. I rely on you.”
“Understood.”
These two were her closest, most trusted servants, instrumental in gathering information about her husband and, increasingly, about the imperial concubine, Chu. Every scrap of information mattered, and spotting Chu-fei had become nearly impossible—a reclusive woman who ensnared the emperor from afar. The thought left Song Qiutong unsettled. Their groups of servants rarely intersected, heightening her desperation for signs of this elusive concubine’s habits and preferences—her clothing, fleeting comments, deliveries to her pavilion.
…
The following morning, after a light breakfast in her private chamber, Song Qiutong strolled along the paved paths near her home pavilion, flanked by several servants, including A-Zhu and A-Liu. Trees arched overhead, casting dappled shadows on the well-maintained paths. Palace maids and eunuchs swept past, their movements swift yet respectful, parting to allow the empress to pass, their urgency evident in their hurried steps.
She carried her head high. Her white and gold robes, sparkling jewelry, and fine hair ornaments accentuated her shining, fairy-like features. A keen learned sense for acquisitive attention picked up on furtive glances. Despite her noble air, she met those familiar faces with kind eyes and modest, rouge-painted smiles.
Overall, the day was pleasant, the weather mild and the palace safely detached from any far-off disorder.
Her destination was an open garden along the path to Red Lotus Pavilion. Though she could wander freely across Sisheng Peak, she understood the importance of monitoring boundaries. Discreet ventures carried none of the risks that boldness invited; such force could provoke unwelcome scrutiny or misplaced suspicion. She had once nudged Taxian-jun to introduce her to Chu-fei, feigning curiosity about the concubine as a fellow member of the imperial family. The attempt had backfired; at the mere mention of Chu-fei, he had retreated further into silence.
He brooded over the concubine with an intensity that confounded her. Should she cheer him up? She had tried that. Should she provoke him into a fit of anger to draw out his attention? The thought sent a tiny, unnoticeable shiver down her spine.
Settling on a stone stool at the edge of the tranquil garden, closest to the main path, she caught snippets of giggles and whispers that jolted the breath from her lungs.
“You really heard him say that? We might finally get a little prince or princess!”
“Yes! Though I was far away. And his visits to Chu-fei are so frequent.”
“How can such words be spoken so openly? It’d be fascinating to work over there…” Giggles erupted, quickly stifled by hasty hushing.
Song Qiutong’s gentle mask shattered. No way. This possibility, long kept locked away in her mind, was too alarming to confront. Her maidservants seemed to wither beside her, their eyes darting to their pale, distressed lady.
“A-Liu!” Her voice snapped out, harsher than she intended. “Who are they? What are they saying?”
“My lady, I would tell you if I knew!” A-Liu responded quickly, concern evident. “I don’t know them personally, but I believe they are lowly attendants to the palace doctors and healers.”
Attendants to the palace doctor, then. Has Chu-fei been ill? Song Qiutong’s heart quickened. Is she pregnant? That can’t be! Taxian-Jun doesn’t want a family! A coldness filled the space where the air escaped her chest. Or…was it only me he made that clear to? What has she done?!
A-Zhu leaned closer, trying to comfort her. “Those words are likely empty gossip and rumors. Remember, my lady, His Majesty will return soon. You are the empress, and that fact remains unchanged.”
Her words dripped with boundless meaning. Song Qiutong’s power towered above everyone in the palace, including Chu-fei’s, second only to the emperor himself. She was the recognized di wife, not a sorrowful, hidden concubine.
Feeling a surge of discomfort, Song Qiutong rose to her feet with hardened resolve. She strode over to the lowly attendants, ready to deliver a sharp reprimand for their audacity in spreading rumors about their superiors. Following this and returning to the main path, her muscles tightened with restlessness, the echoes of their words still ringing in her ears. Without the makeup masking her features, her face would betray the turmoil roiling within her.
After aimlessly wandering, she finally acknowledged her growing disappointment at Taxian-jun’s absence from Wushan Palace. Fine , she thought, a hint of defiance sparking.
…
The following night, eunuchs arrived at Song Qiutong’s residence to announce the emperor’s request for her presence. Her earlier moping in front of palace staff had reached him, stirring something. After all, her earlier boldness had been a significant departure from her usual demeanor.
Her maidservants hurriedly dressed her, meticulously reviewing and freshening her appearance before bidding her farewell. Cloaked in a red outer jacket to ward off the evening chill, she departed with the palace servants, who escorted her to the royal bedchamber.
Upon arrival, she parted from the attendants and stepped into the room, where Taxian-jun awaited. He stood by the window, scrutinizing her with an intensity in his purple eyes that left her unsettled. Was it anger? Dissatisfaction? Whatever it was, it seared into her flesh—a harsh, raw gaze that felt like frost settling over bone, cold enough to strip her bare and expose her to the biting wind.
“A-Ran,” she ventured, hoping to invoke a sense of familiarity. Sometimes he appreciated that address. “Qiutong has missed you and wanted to see you before you leave again.” She smiled sweetly as she approached him.
He clicked his tongue, yet his words held a veiled softness. “So you know to explain yourself. This venerable one heard that his wife complained of neglect.”
She lowered her gaze, feigning remorse. “I had trouble finding you. I really missed you. It’s been so long.” She reached for his arm, but he shifted away with an irritated huff. Thin ice. “Let Qiutong please you before you go again.” Her smile remained rosy and warm, revealing her perfect white teeth.
“This venerable one makes the decisions and calls for you when he pleases. What are you trying to do?” He seemed uncertain, caught between conflicting emotions.
“All I’ve said is true,” she said, small but firm.
In that moment, his pent-up desire surged forth, an untamed beast drawn to the inhumanly beautiful woman who stood before him, offering herself. She understood, from their first meetings and previous nights together, that she resembled someone from his past. Whatever.
He pushed her down onto the bed, but when he attempted to flip her onto her knees, she insisted on facing him. He relented, his hands moving hungrily over her, gripping her wrist tightly as he unraveled her for his own pleasure, before losing himself within her.
Facing him, she took it all with a smile, her eager gasps and soft moans escaping her lips. She truly wanted this. This was her role, her place. Being used ensured her security. Even as she manipulated her body and subconscious to align with her conscious desires, she clung to this fate with unwavering resolve.
His pace quickened, and she felt herself flush, dizzying under the weight of his body heat. She called out to him, grasping him tightly, her voice breathless as she begged, “Stay inside. Let me bear your child. I can give you an heir.” Her long nails pressed into his skin.
Without a trace of tender concession, he shoved her down, knocking the breath from her lungs.
As a Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feast, she was accustomed to holding back her tears. Instead, the frustration and sadness could only brew into a suffocating, beastly implosion, shards from which were bound to fly outward sooner or later.
She always knew that under any circumstances, she wasn’t loved. The fact remained the same whether in the auction rings or here with her emperor husband. No one desired her out of love. Her body was a vessel, a thing for men to use.
…
Taxian-Jun summoned his empress or visited her bedchamber maybe twice within the following month.
One day, she sat in her bedroom, a sullen expression weighing on her features. A-Zhu and A-Liu served her a comforting tea and brought desserts from the kitchens. According to A-Liu, the kitchens had been producing an excess of sweets, much to the delight of the servants who enjoyed the uneaten dishes that inexplicably returned.
“My lady, are you ill?” A-Zhu fretted. Of the two primary maidservants, she was the most organized and logical, unwaveringly loyal to her lady. Song Qiutong had never mistreated her, at least not out of malice. A-Liu, in contrast, fluttered around like a personal butterfly, quick-witted and serving as Song Qiutong’s eyes and ears in suspicious places, carrying out many of the household tasks.
“Yes,” Song Qiutong replied simply, taking a sip of tea.
“Could it be that you’re with child?” A’Zhu whispered, uncertain but faintly excited by the idea. “There have been a few chances.”
Song Qiutong’s jaw clenched. She hadn’t told her maidservants the truth of the matter. How could she admit such a failure?
“Impossible,” she said, her gaze fixed on the window.
The maidservants exchanged concerned glances, silently deliberating their next words, weighing their options carefully.
“My lady,” A-Zhu began, her tone gentle. “This one truly wishes to hear your worries. Is your body unwell? Are the nights with His Majesty unfulfilling?” She kept her voice low and non-judgmental. “This one will serve my lady no matter her troubles.”
Sharp and wiry, the questions pricked at Song Qiutong, but the concern behind them softened her resolve. “My body is fine. The emperor doesn’t want me to have his child, that’s all. Tell me, are the rumors about Chu-fei true?”
The maidservants wilted.
A-Liu responded, “No, my lady, they’re not true. No new rumors or updates have been heard.”
Song Qiutong exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “But those ‘rumors’ could become true.”
After a brief silence, A’Liu leaned in, her voice low. “Since I’ve been visiting the medical hall, I’ve heard something interesting.”
The other women regarded her with wary, bored gazes, neither expecting anything good.
“There are other ways to become pregnant,” A-Liu revealed.
A-Zhu startled, and Song Qiutong raised her eyebrows in interest.
“What do you mean? Continue,” Song Qiutong probed.
The girl blushed, hesitant but eager to share. “There is a new method that doesn’t involve intercourse. The parents could be strangers.”
“How?” Song Qiutong was dumbfounded and doubtful. “Does it involve cultivation?”
“No, my lady. The technique is purely medical. I don’t fully understand it, but one of the doctors’ attendants I’ve become acquainted with spoke of it. She said it’s a promising technique for women who have trouble conceiving, for whatever reason.”
Song Qiutong visibly pondered this strange concept, while A-Zhu’s eyes widened, grasping the potential significance of the information.
A-Liu pressed on, “My lady, what should we do?”
“You mentioned learning this from another servant. Medicine would be helpful for my situation right now,” Song Qiutong hinted, her features brightening as she delicately nibbled a tiny pastry from the plate beside her.
A-Liu understood immediately and rushed out of the room.
…
When the attendant returned to the empress’s quarters, she couldn’t comprehend why A-Liu had insisted on her in particular. The last time they had crossed paths, the empress had expressed disappointment at her gossiping about Chu-fei. Nothing had changed; she was still just a servant, tasked with washing linens and fetching tools for the healers.
But A-Liu had urged her to bring the ingredients and recipe for a nausea remedy to prepare at the empress’s home.
With a deep bow, the attendant introduced herself, avoiding eye contact as she observed the woman lying in bed, her skin snow-white and her expression tired. “Your Majesty.”
A-Zhu mixed the herbal concoction with the attendant’s assistance. After taking a sip of the bitter brew, Song Qiutong sighed, the weight of her worries heavy on her.
“Who can check if I’m pregnant?” she asked the attendant, her voice nervous.
“What? This one means—have you missed your menstrual period? A doctor can be brought here to confirm, Your Majesty.”
Song Qiutong’s patience wore thin as she regarded the attendant’s ineptitude, yet she chose to remain composed. “To be candid,” she sighed, her voice heavy, “the emperor and I have been striving for an heir. I’ve failed, and I need guidance on how to prepare my body for pregnancy and protect the child... I fear I lost one early on.” Her voice quavered, the weight of her words suffocating her. “I can’t let the emperor know, so these visits must remain secret.” She released a shaky breath, her chest tightening with each exhale.
The attendant, startled by the empress’s vulnerability, floundered for a response. “Your Majesty! I understand. A nurse or midwife can be summoned. I can do it!”
Song Qiutong’s expression hardened. “No one else must know. You’ve only served the medical staff here, correct? Everything you know was learned within these palace walls?” The girl appeared young, her knowledge limited to the basics: tasks, scraps of information, and rudimentary recipes. A-Zhu had confided that she was a servant taken in after the war fractured her family, seeking refuge in the palace. In that regard, they shared a bond.
The girl, aware of her place, kept her origins brief. “Yes, all my training and work has been done here.”
That reassured Song Qiutong; the girl’s knowledge stemmed from the right source. “Good. Is there a primary female doctor or midwife?” She scrutinized the girl, knowing it was customary for women to care for women.
“Yes, there is. I work closely with them,” the attendant replied brightly.
“Then you will bring a trustworthy doctor to me,” the empress instructed, her tone firm. “A-Liu mentioned something intriguing. You told her there’s a method to ensure pregnancy if one fails to conceive normally. Where did you hear that?”
“I—this one heard it from the doctors. They discussed it. The archives have new reports about it, too. But, Your Majesty, it’s just a theory. I understood it’s not a common method.”
“Reports? The archives have books detailing this method?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Can you access those books?” Song Qiutong pondered how to discreetly summon a doctor while avoiding the pretense of a public illness. This route seemed more subtle.
“Yes.”
“Find a way to bring it to me.” She wanted to understand the method thoroughly before attempting it or seeking medical help. If it proved fruitless, she could dismiss it quietly without involving anyone else. “If anyone inquires about your visits, what will you say?”
“This one will say—”
“Nothing. You’ll say and show them nothing. I’m ill with a common ailment, understand? If anyone discovers my true condition, the palace will have no further use for certain… unneeded servants.”
The girl felt as if she had turned to stone.
Yet the empress softened, offering a gentle smile. “I trust you. I apologize if my words frighten you, but you understand, don’t you? This matter is deeply personal and disheartening.” Her delicate lashes fluttered like troubled butterfly wings against the sharp contours of her pale cheekbones. “You understand, right?”
A silent nod.
“A-Liu’s trusted acquaintance is mine as well.”
…
In the quiet of the chamber, Song Qiutong and A-Zhu pored over a thin booklet detailing recent discoveries in the medical field. Its pages held groundbreaking stories, helpful diagrams, and the occasional mention of experimental treatments.
“So, that’s how it’s done,” Song Qiutong mused, her brow furrowing in concentration.
“My lady, this one believes a doctor would be invaluable for safety and success.”
“No. It’s simple enough.” Her confidence surged, though it bordered on reckless. Why hadn’t she considered the fundamentals herself? If he couldn’t place the seed, she would.
Cold apprehension flooded A-Zhu’s mind.
…
After a customary trip off the mountains, Taxian-Jun made his first stop to see his beloved Chu-fei. A couple of days later, he sought out Song Qiutong in her chambers, having stormed past her earlier in the day while crossing paths in Wushan Palace. He had offered her a gruff warning, promising to visit later. Her startled yet warm response had earned her a rough smirk. But she harbored no illusions; she knew he was being his usual self, nothing but a dog.
During a meeting with distant officials, Taxian-Jun graciously allowed Song Qiutong to sit beside him, stirring admiration among the fascinated men who had never encountered such a captivating woman. They could only salivate in silence over this radiant prize, bowing their heads reverently and declaring that such a divine pair was destined to be together.
Pride swelled within Song Qiutong. No one could touch her but Taxian-Jun, a reality she learned to accept as she navigated his volatile moods. Her position shielded her from most threats, yet one loomed still: the elusive Chu-fei—the other wife, hidden away like a treasure buried deep. Song Qiutong had never glimpsed Chu-fei’s face, a fact that gnawed at her.
She pondered it often. Why did Taxian-Jun protect his concubine, treating his empress as a mere ornament for public display? Depending on her mood, she either scoffed at the notion of a pitiful, secondary wife or shuddered at the thought of a beloved, cunning jewel kept from ravenous eyes. She longed to be seen in that same light, if only to feel anchored rather than precariously balanced on a narrow ledge.
She plotted her next move. The following night, when Taxian-Jun visited, she would don her heaviest mask of passion and normalcy. Hidden in the side drawers lay small medical tools, ready for use for when her anxious heart settled and solitude enveloped her pavilion once more.
Soon, she resolved, her place beside him would be solidified. The ground beneath her would tremble less, quaking only during her emperor’s manic rages. Her name would be etched in history, a memoir to an unprecedented imperial dynasty led by the most powerful cultivator and an untouchable woman.
…
“Qiutong is here for you, A-Ran. Let her help,” she said with a gentle smile, guiding him to her bed, cloaked in shadows and the flickering glow of candlelight. She loosened her inner robes, letting them slip away with languid grace, revealing slender shoulders and a chest sculpted like prized white jade. Lithe fingers ventured to his belt, exploring the contours of his clothed abdomen. A slight jerk from him signaled her to slow down.
“Tsk.” He pushed her back into the sheets, his eyes dark pools of ink, revealing little of the tumultuous flames within. “This venerable one will show you how skilled he is. Don’t be so hasty.”
She gasped as he bound her wrists, leaving her exposed—not merely in her vulnerability but under the weight of Taxian-Jun’s frigid gaze. He positioned himself between her legs, handling her with an unyielding authority, coaxing soft moans from her delicate lips.
“Shut up,” he growled, frustration seeping through his words like a forked tongue hissing, teeth gritted as he began to thrust. “This venerable one brought home the most beautiful creature. The best. So be good and act like it, instead of behaving like a demon feast.”
For reasons unknown, Taxian-Jun was crueler that night, harsher in his touch. Golden tears shimmered at the corners of Song Qiutong's eyes as she endured his relentless fervor. He rambled defensive remarks—angry promises and declarations that twisted in her mind, making no sense. “You like that, don’t you?” he sneered, a calloused finger brushing away one of her escaping tears. “Of course you do. You’re grateful to your savior.” His laughter rang cold, a deep, mocking sound that echoed in the haze of fire and smoke swirling around them, restless and agitated, with cruel, violent urges following him like shadows. “Tell this venerable one how much you want it.”
She sought to appease him, panting for breath beneath his fierce rhythm. Her heart raced in tandem with his fluctuating moods. But then he began to slow, dropping his head against her shoulder. She stiffened, confused and fearful. One large hand gripped her shoulder, and she heard a sharp, stifled inhale.
What’s happening? No, he can’t stop now!
“A-Ran, what’s wrong? Please, please continue. Don’t stop,” she begged.
No acknowledgement.
“A-Ran… Husband,” Song Qiutong lilted. “What’s wrong? Qiutong can take more. Only us two are here. What are you thinking about?”
There was a short silence.
“That’s right. You’ve proven something to this venerable one.” He outright laughed. “Some are ungrateful and stubborn.”
What? Who is he talking about? Who… Ah. Who else could it be when he hadn’t left the peak?
Song Qiutong suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she lowered her lids and swallowed the bitter taste rising in her throat.
Soon enough, she coaxed him to continue. After the distraction, he returned to his frenzy, hips snapping with primal urgency, his temperament retreating again, a mindless animal lost in rutting instinct. She teetered on the edge, climaxing twice during the night’s pursuit—his skill was undeniable. Nevertheless, he pulled out, finishing against her thigh and the sheets below.
Without many words, he arranged his clothing and left, the speed with which he caught his breath almost impressive.
As soon as Taxian-Jun turned his back, Song Qiutong pressed her fingers to the warm semen on her thigh, spreading it into herself, heart racing. Confident he was gone, she retrieved a hidden thin tube, carefully collecting the remnants from the bedding. Lying back, she conducted her own independent insemination, every motion gentle.
A little over a month later, palace doctors confirmed the empress’s pregnancy, and the news spread like wildfire throughout Sisheng Peak, reaching the depths of Wushan Palace and the secluded Red Lotus Pavilion.