Shen Kexian was exactly where I expected him to be.
In his quarters. Seated near his cluttered desk. Wearing that familiar expression that said he was either solving a national crisis or calculating the best way to annoy me.
What I didn't expect were the pigeons.
At least three of them swooped in as I approached—flapping and cooing like they owned the place—darting through the upper windows with scrolls tied to their legs. Two more launched out, disappearing into the pale sky like they were running errands for an overly stylish warlord.
Outside the door, two of his men gave me a respectful bow before slipping out wordlessly. I nodded in return, then stepped inside.
"Are you opening a zoo?" I asked, eyeing the flurry of feathers and paperwork with suspicion. "Or starting your own mail courier service?"
Shen Kexian didn't even flinch. He glanced up from the document in his hand, let the corner of his mouth curl into that maddening half-smile, and said, "The Goddess of Water herself—what brings you to my humble, bird-infested abode?"
I rolled my eyes and stepped further in.
The room smelled faintly of sandalwood, ink, and responsibility. Scrolls were spread across the low table, one half-unrolled at his side, another pinned beneath a teacup. A small map was stretched near the window, stones marking border lines and mountain passes. It wasn't chaos, but it was definitely an activity.
He was busy.
And, much as I hated to admit it, he probably had answers to questions I didn't want to ask. I folded my hands behind my back, trying to sound casual.
"Are you always this productive, or do you just look busy to keep people away?"
He chuckled under his breath, leaning back just slightly like he enjoyed watching me try to look composed. "Things are a little hectic," he admitted, setting the scroll aside. "I've been investigating a few things. Odd reports from the north. But…" His eyes flicked to mine, gaze steady. "I always have time for you."
And there it was. The casual, practiced flirtation he wielded like a second sword.
My cheeks betrayed me instantly. Warmth crept up like a slow ambush. I cleared my throat and immediately changed the subject.
"So what's going on?" I asked, stepping closer to the map near his desk. "I've seen a lot of new faces on the training grounds. I've already blessed three sons, four aspiring cultivators, and one terrified merchant who thought I could 'awaken a golden core' in his toddler."
Shen Kexian exhaled, the humor fading from his expression. "You feel it too, huh?"
I nodded. He stood and moved toward the window, gesturing absently to the map. "There's been a dispute at the Qiuli border. Patrol clashes. Miscommunication. Nothing official—yet. Their envoy is coming to investigate."
"Do we expect that to go well?" I asked, cautiously.
He gave a humorless smile. "Normally, we'd rely on the Wang family to keep Qiuli at bay. Quiet talks behind closed doors. Trade agreements with a little blackmail on the side. But now? After everything that's happened…" He trailed off, letting the implication settle.
"The influx of new cultivators," he said quietly, "and the number of soldiers enlisting… it's starting to look like we're gearing up for war."
I frowned. "We're not, though. Are we?"
He glanced at me. "Doesn't matter what we intend. Qiuli's watching. We've executed half the Wang family, exiled their strategist, replaced the court's balance, and now we're training troops like someone lit a beacon. They're unsettled. And scared people make dangerous decisions."
I finally asked the question that had been sitting heavy in the air. "So… how do we fix this?"
Shen Kexian didn't look up right away. "That depends on the envoy. If negotiations go well, we'll ease the tension. If not... Well, the border won't stay quiet for long."
He exhaled, folding the map with neat fingers. "But you don't need to worry about that. We're managing it."
He glanced at me, something softer in his eyes now. "We should be able to resume your training next week."
I opened my mouth to respond, but then he added—almost too casually—
"We still haven't explored how you managed to amplify my power like that during the fight."
My heart flipped. There it was. The conversation I'd been quietly, actively, and possibly spiritually avoiding. I looked away too quickly.
"Oh," I said, like I hadn't been thinking about it nonstop since the shrine. "Sure. Next week, then."
He tilted his head slightly. "I'm looking forward to it."
I didn't look back. "You would."
And I walked out, pretending my pulse wasn't trying to lecture me about emotional responsibility.
***
Clear my mind. That's what I told myself. That was the goal. A peaceful walk. Breathe in flowers, breathe out court politics. Something poetic and responsible like that.
So I went to the palace garden. Nature. Calm. Serenity. Trees that didn't speak in riddles and ponds that didn't require divine intervention.
That was the plan. I hadn't even made it past the carved archway when I saw them.
Wang Yufei and the Queen.
Of course.
I froze mid-step, already reconsidering every life decision that had led me here. I was about to turn around—gracefully, quietly, maybe with a dramatic sigh—when it happened.
The Queen slapped her. A sharp, vicious motion. Open-handed. Loud even from across the garden path.
Wang Yufei staggered, one hand rising to her cheek, red already blooming under her skin. Her eyes shimmered with tears she hadn't let fall yet.
I stood there, stunned, half-hidden by a willow branch, too far to hear what they were saying—but close enough to feel the impact.
Holy shit.
What the hell just happened? I didn't move at first. I think my brain short-circuited. But then the Queen turned—sharp, cold, regal rage wrapped in silk—and started walking straight in my direction.
Panic. I ducked out of sight so fast I nearly tripped over the edge of my own robe, darting behind the nearest column of the garden pavilion like a guilty cat caught eavesdropping. I pressed myself against the stone and held my breath.
She passed just a moment later. Her face was full of fury. Once she disappeared around the bend, I peeked back toward where Wang Yufei had been standing.
She hadn't moved.
Her maids were around her now, flustered, fussing over her like that would undo the damage. Wang Yufei's hand still cradled her cheek, and this time, the tears had started to fall. I couldn't hear her. Couldn't get close enough to ask anything. Not that she'd answer me if I did.
But still. She looked small.
And not in the delicate, court-trained way she usually presented herself. Just… crushed. Broken down in layers I hadn't thought existed behind the smugness and soft silk.
And as much as I wanted to stay angry at her—she did try to get me killed, after all—I couldn't help it.
That slap had been hard. And something about the way she stood there, not yelling, not defending herself… just standing—it made my chest tighten in a way I didn't like.
I didn't trust her. But I pitied her.
***
A week later, my training was supposed to resume.
Keyword: supposed to.
Instead, I got a message. Delivered by one of Shen Kexian's men with the usual smooth efficiency, like it was some urgent royal decree and not a scroll that would make me want to bite something.
I opened it, expecting schedules or diagrams. Instead, it read:
"Leaving the capital for a few days. Don't worry, I haven't vanished—yet. No training until I return. Try not to miss me too much."
I stared at it. Then reread it. Then strongly considered crumpling it into a ball and drop-kicking it into the nearest brazier.
Try not to miss me too much?
What was I supposed to do with that? Frame it? I rolled my eyes so hard it gave me a headache. He was getting worse. Like a stray cat who figured out that clawing your curtains was still somehow charming.
And yet… I didn't burn the note. I just folded it neatly, feeling irritated. Tuck it in my sachet for safekeeping. Obviously. Not sentiment.
With training canceled and my blessing duties wrapped up before noon, I finally had a rare slice of free time that didn't involve incense, water basins, or emotionally confusing swordmen. Xiaohua and I gathered up the temple offerings—too many baskets of dried fruit, a mountain of rice, and three slightly overripe melons—and brought everything to the edge of the city, where people actually needed it.
By the time we finished handing things out, the sun had started to lower, casting a soft gold over the stone streets. We walked back slowly, tired but satisfied, and I was just about to suggest tea when I saw her.
Half-covered, hunched slightly, dressed in dull brown robes that didn't suit her station.
But it was her.
No mistaking that figure—eight and a half months pregnant, with a posture that screamed elegance even when hiding in an alley like a badly written spy.
Wang Yufei.
"What is she doing here?" I murmured, more to myself than to Xiaohua.
The alley was quiet, narrow, tucked between old shuttered buildings. Not a place a noblewoman should be. Definitely not alone. And definitely not looking like she was waiting for someone.
My curiosity, which was supposed to be retired for the day, stretched and yawned awake. I adjusted my veil, told Xiaohua to wait for me, and stepped into the alley.
"Consort Wang Yufei?" I called gently, as if I hadn't just caught her red-handed in… whatever this was. "Out enjoying the city air?"
She paused—just slightly—then turned and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. What struck me first was the absence: no maid at her side, no guards in quiet formation, not even a single servant trailing behind with a fan or a basket of overpriced ginseng. Just her alone in an alley where the only charm was the smell of dried fish and regret.
She was nervous. I could see it in the way her fingers kept adjusting the edge of her sleeve, her eyes flicking to the street behind me, then quickly away.
"Goddess of Water," she greeted, voice composed but tight. Formal. Like she couldn't remember how we used to glare at each other over tea.
"You didn't bring your maid or your personal guard?" I asked lightly, tilting my head. "Isn't that dangerous—to be here alone?"
She hesitated. "I—"
Ah. The stalling. Busted. If you're up to no good, I will find out. At this point, uncovering sketchy behavior was practically my second profession.
"I was here for a good luck charm," she said quickly. "The shaman lives around here."
I blinked. Really? I looked around the alley, which contained approximately three rotting crates, a sleeping cat, and a door that hadn't seen a hinge repair since the last dynasty.
"…In this alley?" I echoed. "Wow. Must be one hell of a shaman. Do you mind if I tag along? I've blessed half the capital today—I could use a little charm myself."
She stiffened. Just a little. A smile still clinging to her face, but now it looked like it had teeth.
"I—of course," she said. "But I was just about to leave."
How convenient.
Right on cue, she clutched her stomach and let out a soft gasp.
There it was—the dramatic flinch, the perfectly timed grimace, the faint wobble in her step. Her entire body language screamed "Oh no, I'm too delicate for confrontation, must flee immediately."
I narrowed my eyes. Classic.
"Consort Wang," I said, rushing forward with an expression of theatrical concern, "are you alright? What's wrong?"
She gritted her teeth, hand still on her belly, and gave me the most rehearsed wince I'd ever seen. "I'm fine. Just a tiny pain. Nothing serious. I should—um—head back."
Oh, you damn right you should.
"Of course," I said, smiling sweetly. "Let me walk with you then. Can't have you collapsing in an alley where no one can find you."
Her face did a tiny twitch. Just at the edge of her cheek. Most people wouldn't notice it but I did. Now she looked even more nervous. Which meant one thing for sure:
She had something to hide. And she had no idea how determined I was when curiosity kicked in at full force.
She took two more steps. Then gasped again—louder this time—and practically folded over herself like the grand finale in a tragic opera.
Oh wow. Oscar-worthy.
She lowered herself to the ground with an exaggerated motion, one hand bracing on the cobblestones, the other clutched tightly around her belly. I blinked, already preparing a sarcastic internal monologue—until I looked at her face.
She was pale. Not elegant-pale. Ashen. Sweat had broken along her hairline, and her breathing had gone short and shallow.
Wait. Was this still acting?
Or had the girl actually out-committed herself into real labor? I knelt beside her, voice sharp with concern. "Hey—hey. Are you alright? What's the matter?"
"My stomach," she hissed through clenched teeth. "It hurts."
"Okay. Okay—whoa." My hands hovered awkwardly like I was afraid to touch her or summon a rainstorm. "Are you… in labor right now? Like now-now?"
She let out a low groan and gripped her stomach harder. I froze.
Snark mode: disengaged.
Full panic: activated.
I looked around—empty alley, not a single guard or servant in sight—and turned to Xiaohua. "Go. Get the palace physician. Now."
Xiaohua didn't hesitate. She was halfway through her first sprinting step when Wang Yufei suddenly reached out and grabbed her robe.
"No—please," she gasped. "Don't."
Both of us froze. I turned back to her, completely dumbfounded. "What? Are you crazy?"
She shook her head, eyes wide and pleading. "No one can know I'm here."
I stared at her like she'd just declared she was about to deliver the baby herself using spiritual incense and good intentions.
"You're in labor, in an alley, without a maid or a healer," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "You want me to bless the child into existence?"
But she just clutched her stomach tighter, face contorted in pain, refusing to answer.
Wang Yufei's hand trembled as she reached into her robe and pulled out a slim wooden name tag—her palace identification. The polished lacquer caught the light for a brief second before she shoved it toward Xiaohua.
"Take this," she gasped, breathing unevenly. "Go to the royal guard post. Ask for someone named… Jiang Wei."
Xiaohua hesitated for only half a heartbeat.
I frowned. "Who's Jiang Wei?"
Wang Yufei didn't answer. She just kept whispering, "Please. Please."
Whatever pride she normally wore like armor was gone—washed out by pain, panic, and something deeper I couldn't name. I glanced at Xiaohua and gave a sharp nod.
"Go."
Xiaohua took off like an arrow, vanishing down the alley at full speed. That left me and Wang Yufei. And whatever this was turning into. I looked around and spotted a narrow house tucked along the side of the alley, its door half-cracked, no incense burning, no shoes at the entrance. It looked empty.
I didn't have time to wonder why. I hooked one arm under Wang Yufei's and, ignoring her weak protests, half-dragged, half-carried her into the house.
The air inside was still and dry. Dust clung to the corners. The only light came through warped paper windows.
Not ideal. But it was better than giving birth in the street.
How long did labor usually last?
I tried to remember—something about hours, right? Sometimes days? My brain frantically flipped through every vague memory of palace childbirth protocol, medical scrolls I'd skimmed, and a single drama episode where the woman gave birth after three dramatic gasps and a slow fade to black.
None of it helped. Because I was not a midwife and for the love of every celestial being, this was not part of my divine job description.
I looked around the dusty room, spotted a pile of folded cloth near the corner, and grabbed it. It smelled faintly of herbs and storage but it would do. I helped her sit and lean against the wooden frame, then knelt beside her, watching her pale face as she clenched her jaw through another wave of pain.
"Wang Yufei," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "I don't know what's going on, but we need to get you back to the palace. Proper help. Warm water. A mattress. Someone who knows what they're doing."
She shook her head weakly.
"Who the heck is Jiang Wei?" I added, not even pretending to sound polite anymore.
Her voice was faint but firm. "I can't be seen entering the palace like this."
I stared at her. Absolutely baffled.
"You're about to have a baby, and you're worried about your entrance?"
Her hand suddenly shot out and grabbed mine—tight, desperate. Her fingers were cold.
"I know I deserve death," she choked out, eyes brimming. "For what I did. For hurting you. For trying to kill you. I know. But…"
She was crying now. Not delicately. Not with practiced tears or soft sniffles. These were real tears—terrified, broken.
"But please. Please save my child. I'm begging you… Goddess of Water."
The title hit differently this time. Not flattery. Not fear. Just… pleading. I stared at her, stunned. My brain tripped over itself trying to catch up. "What are you talking about?"
Her grip on my hand tightened.
"I need your help to create a distraction," she whispered. "So Jiang Wei can take me back to the palace. Without anyone noticing. Please."
I blinked. She was asking me to lie. To help her sneak back into the palace mid-labor. To cover for her? I hadn't answered her. My mouth was still somewhere between What are you asking me? and Have you lost your mind? when I heard Xiaohua's voice outside.
"Miss Mei Lin!"
I rushed to the door and yanked it open. "Over here!" She came running toward me, breathless but intact—and not alone.
Behind her was a man. Tall, dark robes, a serious cut to his jaw. Sharp eyes, steady stride. A pretty good looking guy in that rugged-guard-who-doesn't-speak-much kind of way. He looked worried. Very worried.
He stepped past me and went straight to Wang Yufei, dropping to his knees beside her like he belonged there.
"Yufei," he said, voice tight with concern. "Are you alright?"
Yufei. No title. No honorifics. No "Consort." Just her name.
Wait a second. First-name basis? Gentle hand on her shoulder? Looking at her like the world might end if she didn't answer? Who the heck is this guy?
"I need to get you back to the palace," he said, voice low but urgent. "You're not safe out here."
"What if someone sees us?" she whispered back, fingers curling into his sleeve.
Then he turned. Faced me. And dropped into a deep bow, forehead nearly touching the floor.
"Goddess of Water," he said, voice steady but pleading, "please… Please help us."
"Not until you tell me who you are," I said, arms crossed, voice steady even though my heart was thudding like a warning drum in my chest. Jiang Wei hesitated, jaw tightening. But before he could speak, Wang Yufei reached out and placed her hand over his.
The gesture was so intimate, so quietly final, I felt like I was intruding on something sacred. She looked at me. Not with defiance. Not with arrogance. Just… acceptance. Quiet. Resigned.
"You already know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "This child isn't Prince Wei's."
I froze. I mean—I knew. We'd all suspected it. Shen Kexian had implied it to ministers, I'd seen the signs, done the mental math—but hearing her say it aloud? It landed differently. It wasn't just a scandal. It was a confession. Not just any confession. Admitting that? To me? That was basically putting her neck on the chopping block.
Because cheating on Prince Wei wasn't just disgraceful—it was treason. The kind with only one outcome and she knew it. She was betting her life—and her child's—on my mercy. My hands stayed still at my sides. But inside?
I was spinning.
"You're the father?" I asked, turning to Jiang Wei.
His face went pale. Like bone-deep, soul-left-the-body pale. But he nodded. One small, grim nod. I stared at them both. Took a deep breath. Then another. Exhaled like I could push the moral dilemma out of my body and leave only divine apathy behind.
Should I let her fall? Honestly? Maybe.
She'd tried to destroy me. Played politics with poison and lies. Now here she was, sitting on the floor of an abandoned house, clutching her lover's hand and her swollen belly, daring to appeal to my compassion like we were old friends and not barely-contained enemies.
Dammit, Wang Yufei.
I hated how human she looked. I hated that she was playing into the part of me that still cared, even after everything. That part that remembered how it felt to be helpless, cornered, and quietly desperate for someone to see me as more than the mask I wore.
I closed my eyes for a second.
Then I looked at them both and muttered, "Damn, you two are lucky I'm not a heartless bitch."
Wang Yufei blinked. Jiang Wei looked like he might collapse from relief. I stood up and dusted off my robe. "Let's get you into the palace before someone finds out and actually kills you. I'll create a distraction."
Because apparently, I had one more scandal in me before dinner.