The melodious tone of his voice lingered in her ears, and Qingge had to admit it was so pleasant it made her ears tingle.
Then, in a deeper voice, she heard him adding, “Let’s do it once more, so my Wangfei can give me an heir sooner.”
Give me an heir sooner…
With the words lingering in her mind, Qingge relished the warmth of the bath water as her fingers slowly moved in a methodical pattern, drawing out all the essence he had left within her. In the end, they did it twice in total, and even now, she seemed to still feel the searing heat pouring into her.
Or perhaps, the heat was never real but merely fragments of her imagination, a side effect of heightened senses due to extreme stimulation—such a sheer intensity, such an immense fullness, all of which made her acutely conscious of their physical connection…
Ning Wang was now twenty-three. According to the customs of the present dynasty, princes were typically assigned a special maidservant to teach them intimate matters between men and women at the age of 13 or 14, with marriage arranged by 16 or 17. Ning Wang’s only full-blood elder brother, the crown prince, had followed this custom and married at 16.
Naturally, after marriage, the princes would quickly begin producing heirs for the continuation of the imperial clan. However, the most important among them, the crown prince, unfortunately, remained childless despite being married for 15 years. He was now in his thirties and yet had not a single offspring. This had inevitably drawn criticism within the court, with officials raising concerns to the emperor about the instability of the dynasty because of the crown prince’s lack of an heir.
His mother, Noble Consort Tan, naturally grew anxious.
It was not for lack of effort—besides the crown princess, the crown prince also had several concubines, and even some bedwarming maids his mother had carefully selected for him. There were plenty of women, but none had successfully gotten pregnant.
The crown prince had made efforts, but no children had been born. Left with no other recourse, Noble Consort Tan’s attention inevitably turned to her younger son, Ning Wang.
Born into an imperial family, it was part of their duty to produce many children—to expand the imperial family and continue the lineage. Noble Consort Tan, having enjoyed years of favor, was the mother of two princes, one of whom had been named crown prince. Believing she could at last enjoy some peace, her hopes were dashed when the crown prince’s decade-long marriage failed to produce an heir, compelling her to pressure her younger son to marry quickly.
Uninterested in women? That simply wouldn’t do. Noble Consort Tan dismissed her son’s lack of interest as mere ignorance because he had yet to taste the pleasure of intimacy; once married, she was certain he would come to understand soon enough.
Desperate to see her younger son wed, Noble Consort Tan faced the challenge of his impossibly high standards. He showed no interest in ordinary women, showing disdain for those who had fallen for his looks and status. Thus, to facilitate her ambition, Noble Consort Tan eventually orchestrated the marriage with the Xiahou clan.
Obviously, this arrangement was not without deeper intent. If the crown prince remained childless, a son from his full-blooded younger brother could be adopted to ensure the continuation of the imperial lineage, silencing the critics. And if that child’s maternal family happened to come from one of the Four Great Clans, it would be an even greater advantage. For Noble Consort Tan, such an alliance would be a monumental honor.
During the era of Three Sage Sovereigns Yao, Shun, and Yu, when the empire was first unified, the emperor rewarded loyal subjects and ennobled their descendants, leading to the establishment of ten aristocratic clans. These clans marked their status by erecting two columns at their gates: the left inscribed with “阀” (lineage) and the right with “阅” (merit), recording their illustrious history for commoners to revere.
Following centuries of turmoil and dynastic changes, many of these clans had fallen into obscurity. Yet, four endured, forming what was now known as the Four Great Clans: the Wen of Tuyong, the Nan of Cangpi, the Shi of Gaoyan, and the Xiahou of Ganliang. These four clans thrived through their unique abilities to adapt and endure, amassing influence and power. They controlled vast estates maintained by hereditary servants and serfs and wielded unparalleled connections, wealth, and even military authority.
There was even a popular saying: A thousand-year-old aristocratic clan outlasts a hundred-year-old dynasty. These four clans, having endured through countless dynasties, were both proud and aloof. The marriages of their direct descendants were tightly regulated. Even during the previous emperor’s reign, when the cherished Princess Yang’an expressed admiration for the heir of the Gaoyan Shi clan, her wish to marry him was firmly rejected.
In recent years, the court had worked to weaken the power of these aristocratic clans. While their influence had diminished and they were no longer as powerful as before, they remained formidable forces. For Noble Consort Tan, having Ning Wang marry the legitimate daughter of one of these clans would solidify her position and give her peace of mind.
There was nothing subtle about this plan: by uniting the Xiahou clan’s legitimate daughter with a prince of the Great Sheng dynasty, their offspring would inherit the noblest lineage, destined for a position of unparalleled prestige.
Qingge was well aware of these, and she knew one thing for certain: she didn’t want to bear Ning Wang’s child.
Perhaps she could endure another two months, claim the promised 30,000 taels, and then leave. After that, if the real Miss Xiahou was willing, she could return to fulfill Noble Consort Tan and Ning Wang’s grand plan.
…
Ning Wang was a man of his word. As promised, he entrusted Qingge with managing the affairs of the inner yard and even granted her oversight of the financial accounts of the manor. But Qingge never had the intention of taking on such responsibilities for real. After all, she was only a temporary Wangfei—an imposter who planned to slip away at the first possible chance. Still, gaining a basic understanding of the accounts and skimming off a little for herself wouldn’t hurt.
In truth, she didn’t even need to make the effort—because precious gifts were flowing incessantly in her direction, day in and day out.
Following their overnight boat excursion, Ning Wang didn’t visit her in the inner yard for two days, claiming he was busy. Though he didn’t come in person, he sent over several rare items. Qingge casually glanced through the list and saw an array of precious medicinal herbs, including rock orchid, hundred-year-old tuber fleeceflower, aged poria with cistanche, and even snow lotus from Tianshan. These were all rare treasures that couldn’t be found in the market.
Qingge wasn’t sure if any of these herbs could detoxify her poison, and she dared not use them recklessly. The principles of medicine and poison were complex; consuming supplements—no matter how rare or precious—without understanding their interactions might worsen her condition instead of curing it. So she stored them away for the time being, planning to consult Ye Min later for advice on detoxification.
Among the various items sent, one stood out: rosewater from the distant Tajik land. This exquisite essence, extracted from Turkestan roses through a special process, was highly fragrant and could be mixed with honey as a cooling drink or used for beautification. Imported goods like this were a luxury, rarely accessible to ordinary people.
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