Please Call Me Your Highness (GL) - Chapter 20

Prince Kangning was silent for a long time.

If Xiao Fu had simply concealed her Kunze identity to remain by Crown Princess Dong Xiaoning’s side and help seek justice for her family, that narrative could still hold some credibility.

But now, Xiao Fu was pregnant with Dong Xiaoning’s child—this changed everything. Putting everything else aside, the mere existence of this child was enough to alter the fate of countless people.

Everyone knew that from the current Empress to Crown Princess Dong Xiaoning, the imperial line had essentially become a single, direct descent. If Xiao Fu gave birth to a Qianyuan, for the sake of stabilizing imperial succession and affirming that the dynasty had heirs, the Empress would likely bestow upon Xiao Fu the formal title of Crown Princess Consort.

But… would this child be allowed to be born?

Bringing her thoughts back, Prince Kangning found herself at a loss for words. She realized she no longer understood Xiao Fu’s intentions at all—and that made her deeply uncomfortable.

Xiao Fu, as if seeing through her thoughts, slowly said, “My feelings for her are real. My desire to clear my family’s name is real. The only thing unexpected… was this child. I’ve thought about it a great deal these past days. It was this child’s presence that made me realize—hesitation leads nowhere. So I’ve decided to go all in.”

Prince Kangning saw in Xiao Fu’s eyes a resolve to die and a tangled, unreadable emotion. She knew that no matter what decision she made today, she could not stop Xiao Fu.

“…This matter needs careful planning.”

“I have a plan. Would Your Highness be willing to hear it?”

“Speak.”

Dong Xiaoning sat on a couch, a thin quilt draped over her shoulders. Perhaps it was due to her recent poisoning and injuries, but her body had suffered greatly, and she now feared the cold more than ever.

This only deepened her sense of weakness. She took frequent leaves of absence, skipping her lessons. The old, stubborn scholars of the Eastern Palace were furious, some even threatening to resign.

Dong Xiaoning didn’t care. Her recent experiences had shown her that some things were simply determined at birth. If you weren’t born with them, gaining them later was near impossible.

So she lay flat—letting things be.

Perhaps her nonchalant attitude clashed with how the ministers remembered her, or maybe it aligned perfectly with the recent rumors of her “dramatic personality change,” but unexpectedly, it had a positive effect.

Some sympathized, others had expectations, and of course, the sycophants never missed an opportunity to curry favor.

At first, Dong Xiaoning didn’t want to meet any of them. But without Xiao Fu by her side, she felt… like something was missing. So if someone came by to flatter her and didn’t look too unbearable, she was willing to listen to a few sweet words.

Now, sitting before her and chatting was Ji Linyun, daughter of Princess Xiucheng and Prince Consort Ji Zhaochi.

Princess Xiucheng had many daughters, all bearing the Ji surname. Back in the days of power struggles between the Retired Emperor and the current Empress, the Ji clan had been quite influential. Dong Xiaoning, in her previous life, had met many of their daughters, some even being discussed as potential marriage candidates. Now that she was Crown Princess, Ji Linyun, a Kunze, was the candidate the Ji clan had put forth as a prospective Crown Princess Consort.

Perhaps because the Ji clan had lost much of their power in recent years and had suffered under the Ming clan’s suppression, they approached this matter with more caution—unlike the Ming clan’s blatant lobbying of the Empress and Empress Consort.

Dong Xiaoning looked at Ji Linyun and thought she was… decent. Of course, “decent” didn’t mean she wanted to spend her life with her. It simply meant Ji Linyun was pleasant enough to talk to.

“It’s so dull staying in the palace all day. I heard my aunt’s garden was recently renovated—it’s quite beautiful. Would Your Highness like to visit it together?”

“With Your Highness’s presence, it would be a great honor for the household.”

Ji Linyun was delighted—how could she refuse?

Just as Dong Xiaoning was considering when to go, a palace attendant arrived, announcing that the Empress had summoned her. She told Ji Linyun to prepare, assuring her she would visit in the next couple of days.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Ji Linyun respectfully accepted, watching Dong Xiaoning’s figure disappear before rising.

Arriving at the Imperial Study, Dong Xiaoning found the Empress seated alone. There was no one else present. Her heart skipped a beat, and she respectfully greeted the Empress, then stood silently.

“No need to stand. Sit.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Dong Xiaoning didn’t stand on ceremony. She sat down beside the Empress, accepting the light blanket handed to her.

“Have some hot tea—it’ll warm you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

She didn’t rise to give thanks again. Still seated, she reached for the tea, took a sip—it tasted excellent—then set it down again.

“The scholars of the Eastern Palace have complained to me,” the Empress began, her tone seemingly casual, “saying you take leave far too often, that it shows negligence. I told them no—it is not negligence. The Crown Princess has just recovered from serious illness; her studies can wait. What matters most is her health. After all, how could a frail body bear the burden of this vast empire?”

“Is Your Majesty hoping I bear a child soon?” Dong Xiaoning asked bluntly, seizing on a particular thread of the Empress’s words to steer the conversation elsewhere. In her eyes, there was no essential difference between how the Empress and Empress Consort Ming treated her—only that one was gentler, the other more aggressive.

“The sooner the Crown Princess marries, the sooner the hearts of the people can be at ease. Naturally, giving birth to an heir will also stabilize public sentiment,” the Empress did not shy from the question. “That day will come regardless. Now, there are so many noble daughters for you to choose from—you needn’t consider anyone else’s opinion. Just choose the one you like.”

“I like Xiao Fu.”

“She’s only a Zhongyong. She can’t bear children, so she can’t be your Crown Princess Consort. If you’re fond of her, just bring her back and keep her at your side.”

“I want Xiao Fu to be my wife.”

Dong Xiaoning’s tone was stubborn, like she was deliberately picking a fight. Yet, she was speaking from the heart. Many people claim, “If it were me, I’d do this or that.” But when the moment comes, some things are far harder to let go than imagined.

And this was one grievance she couldn’t swallow.

The Empress didn’t lose her temper at Dong Xiaoning’s defiance. Instead, she sighed softly. “You are the youngest of my four children. As a Qianyuan, you were never raised to be a successor. But this temperament… perhaps I should guide you myself.”

Dong Xiaoning looked into the Empress’s gentle face and saw hidden worries in her eyes—perhaps even a sliver of genuine joy. This Empress, once all-powerful and unreachable, now seemed to show a trace of genuine maternal warmth.

“You needn’t mind the words of those old scholars,” the Empress continued. “Rituals and laws are like blades—they only work if wielded by you, and aimed at others. Rules… you are the one to make them. You can require everyone to follow them, but they must never restrict you.”

Her words were light, almost casual, but for Dong Xiaoning, this was the “education of a ruler”, as understood by this Empress.

Dong Xiaoning had read countless theories in her past life—many of them in direct opposition. She had come to realize it was hard to distinguish what was truly good or bad. But people could instinctively tell what they liked and what they disliked. That was almost a primal instinct.

And Dong Xiaoning… disliked this kind of rhetoric.

To be above all others, free from constraint—this was monarchy at its peak. The fate of a country and its people, life and death, honor and disgrace, all resting on one person’s will.

Dong Xiaoning had always viewed such power from a distance—never expecting that one day, she would be so close to becoming the kind of person she had always disliked.

The Empress’s meaning was painfully clear: laws and rules existed to bind ordinary people. An emperor, on the other hand, was meant to manipulate them.

There was no talk of “the people are the foundation” or “the ruler must serve the people”. Dong Xiaoning didn’t know if this was a natural result of the original novel’s worldbuilding—or simply a lack of depth from the original author.

Either way, she was unsettled.

She couldn’t picture herself as a ruler. And this, certainly, wasn’t the kind of ruler she wanted to become.

The Empress noted Dong Xiaoning’s silence but continued, “This empire is vast. Affairs large and small are countless. You alone can’t handle them all. Focus on the big picture. Manage the people. In court, don’t rush decisions—hear the ministers’ opinions. Support the majority. If you’re right, it’s called wisdom. If wrong—many will share the blame.”

In summary: control personnel, hold final judgment. Don’t act as a solitary ruler, but as the apex of the bureaucracy.

Dong Xiaoning disliked it all. This conversation left her restless. Seeing no further words were forthcoming, she excused herself.

That afternoon, at Princess Xiucheng’s residence.

Surrounded by attendants, Dong Xiaoning toured her aunt’s gardens. Though not as grand as Changyi Garden, in a capital where land was precious, having such a private estate was impressive.

“Not bad—the hills are hills, the waters are waters. Even my mood has lightened,” she remarked, a rare smile on her face.

“If Your Highness likes it, please visit often,” Princess Xiucheng replied respectfully—her demeanor entirely unlike that of an elder.

“Mmm.” Dong Xiaoning casually responded, truthfully considering it.

At night, a banquet was prepared. There were singers, dancers, and a carefully selected group of noble Kunze maidens kneeling in unison, gazing at Dong Xiaoning with awe and longing.

At first, she was confused. Then, realization dawned—memories from the original novel resurfacing.

In the book, families of lesser nobility or common birth were flexible—Qianyuan, Kunze, even Zhongyong could inherit. But children were born of Kunze.

Some families with only Kunze heirs, fearing their lineage would be absorbed by outsiders, would invite Qianyuan to marry in. Yet, Qianyuan were limited—so alternatives arose.

One solution: Kunze would form temporary unions with Qianyuan—bear a child, then part ways. No obligations, no ties.

If the Qianyuan came from nobility, the offspring would carry prestige and elevate the family.

Now, as Crown Princess, Dong Xiaoning embodied this role for the Kunze before her. Since her own Kunze consort would be the Crown Princess Consort, these maidens aimed lower—seeking only a child from her bloodline.

Dong Xiaoning nearly laughed aloud.

“Leave.”

Her voice was cold, her gaze sharp.

Princess Xiucheng paled, quickly dismissing the maidens.

Just then, a messenger arrived: Prince Kangning seeks an audience.