The Prince Consort's Secret (GL) - Chapter 7

On the delicate silk, a few small characters were written:

“Better to drift apart freely than to cling and drown together.”

…So, the Princess really did have some entanglement with someone? Who could it be?

Well—no matter. That person clearly wants to part ways with me now. That’s just as well.

My mood to admire the scenery was completely ruined. I sat in silence, brooding, until the carriage came to a stop. From outside came a voice:

“Greetings to the Princess!”

I lifted the curtain—towering crimson palace walls loomed before me. At the gates, guards saluted with fists cupped. Several were opening the palace doors.

So soon? We were already here.

I gave a polite smile and signaled them to rise before dropping the curtain. The carriage rolled on.

Once past the palace gates, I lifted the curtain again to peek out. After a wide stone passage, the view suddenly opened up. Palace maids, eunuchs, and a few officials in dark-red court attire moved through the vast plaza outside the main hall.

Atop dozens of marble steps stood an imposing palace, its glazed golden roof glinting under the sun, massive dragon carvings curling along the eaves, and vermilion walls dazzlingly bright.

The sheer majesty of the imperial city stunned me.

This had to be the Hall of Great Celebration, the main hall of the palace—only the most significant state ceremonies were held here.

In my mind, I imagined sitting high above while tens of thousands knelt on the open plaza below, chanting long live the Emperor.

Being an emperor… really didn’t sound too bad.

Our carriage veered away from the main hall and headed directly toward the inner palace. I had asked earlier—the Emperor, after morning court, often reviewed memorials in the Hall of Tranquility and Blessings, his private residence.

At the gates of the inner palace, I confirmed with the guards. As expected, Father had already returned.

I got out of the carriage and switched to a sedan chair, heading for the hall.

Compared to the imposing grandeur of the front halls, the inner palace was more lavish than awe-inspiring. I memorized the names and positions of each hall as we passed. Soon, the Hall of Tranquility and

Blessings came into view.

I stepped out of the sedan.

A young eunuch I didn’t recognize immediately bowed and said obsequiously, “Greetings, Your Highness. You’re quite early today—such devotion!”

I smiled. “Are you saying I used to come late and lacked devotion?”

The eunuch froze, then quickly laughed, “No, no, I just meant—”

I cut him off, turning to the guards. “Why hasn’t anyone gone in to announce me yet?”

The guards exchanged glances, then one of them went inside.

I watched them closely. Something about this group felt… off. Was it just my imagination?

Soon, the guard returned and bowed. “The Princess may enter.”

Ah, to be a palace guard—no need to kneel even before the Emperor, just a bow during reports. Then again, standing all day must be miserable.

I stepped into the hall. A faint sandalwood scent lingered in the air. The golden glow of luxury filled every corner.

Father sat at a massive desk piled high with memorials, reviewing them leisurely. Eunuch Liu and several other eunuchs and maids stood nearby. Outside, the air was cool, but inside, palace maids still fanned him.

I approached with a smile and bowed. “Daughter greets Father Emperor.”

His voice came, lazy and amused. “You’re here early.”

I blinked. Early?

Then he added, “The imperial edict just went out, and here you are already.”

Oh dear.

I wasn’t here to protest! I was just trying to get familiar with the palace and bond with my biggest backer…

Would I really be someone who protests after the decree is issued?

A flash of memory: my hunger strike.

Fine. I might do something that dumb. But storming the palace to protest?

Still, everyone’s expressions were incredibly tense.

Father stopped reading. Everyone stared at me—the eunuchs, the maids, even the “human statue” guards were sneaking glances.

Had I really barged into the hall to protest before? Dragging all of Father’s attendants into trouble along with me?

I quickly clarified, “Father Emperor works tirelessly for the state. As your daughter, I came only to serve you and show my filial devotion. Even if the edict hadn’t arrived today, I would still have come!”

Father narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious, and studied me. I gave him my most innocent, sincere expression.

After a moment, he barked, “Why hasn’t anyone offered the Princess a seat?”

Eunuch Liu quickly scurried over with a chair. I sat down casually.

Yinger had once said the Emperor treated me like an ordinary daughter from a common family—we could speak freely. So there was no need to pretend to sit “half-perched” in fake restraint.

Father returned to his documents, casually chatting with me.

The atmosphere still felt a little awkward, so I tried to prove my “changed” self—pouring him tea, cracking jokes. After much effort, the scene finally settled into a pleasant one: I massaged the imperial shoulders while Father smiled in contentment.

Just then, a guard entered, bowed, and announced, “Your Majesty, Minister Li of the Ministry of Justice requests an audience.”

Business matters. I quickly took my leave.

Only when I was gone did the attendants visibly exhale in relief. I almost burst out laughing.

As I exited, the guards were telling a man in a purple robe that “Minister Li may enter.”

I glanced at him—handsome features, early thirties, pale skin. He bowed when he saw me.

I returned the courtesy, though something about him gave me a cold, sinister impression.

Maybe Ministry of Justice officials just came with a naturally menacing aura?

I shook off the thought and climbed into the sedan. Next stop: go see Mother at Kunning Palace.

When we got there, the guards said the Empress had gone to visit Consort Yuan at Jiaolan Palace.

Am I about to witness some palace drama?

Excited and a little anxious, I entered—only to find my mother and Consort Yuan, who looked like a younger version of her, chatting like sisters.

Mother greeted me far more warmly than Father had—asking questions, showing concern, and even giving motherly advice about the imperial consort.

She was just as chatty and nagging as the mother from my previous life.

Still, having adapted quickly, I accepted this “new” mother with surprising ease.

In my heart, I whispered to the mother of my past life:

I will always remember you. But partings are part of life. I’ve learned to let go… though letting go doesn’t mean I don’t care.

Consort Yuan, barely twenty-four or twenty-five, was also warm and friendly, chatting without a trace of pretense.

Even my mother treated young Lin Xu, Yuan’s seven-year-old son, with obvious fondness.

Lin Xu—so young, a bit more mature than the boys I’d known before, but I saw no trace of scheming in him.

The four of us got along harmoniously… and weirdly.

Well, maybe only I thought it was weird.

Where was all the palace scheming I’d read about?

Soon, it was noon and I was getting hungry.

As the pangs of hunger hit, I again felt that strange, unplaceable sensation in my chest—not as strong as when I first arrived in this world, but still noticeable.

It wasn’t just hunger or thirst—more like… a pull.

A flash in my mind: drugs.

Quitting drugs isn’t the hardest part—it’s dealing with the strange, almost biological craving that returns weeks later, like hunger or thirst, calling you back to it. Otherwise, it’s unbearable.

Was it like that?

But I didn’t have any signs of withdrawal, nor did I ever feel the urge to use anything.

Still, the way hunger now triggered this sensation—it felt more like food was deeply tied to it. I’d take my pulse on the way back to be sure.

Consort Yuan warmly invited me and Mother to stay for lunch. The atmosphere was lively and pleasant.

I found myself thinking: If only this world had no palace strife, no battle for the throne… it’d be perfect.

Little did I know back then—even without those struggles, life wasn’t going to be easy.

After the meal, I took my leave and returned to the sedan, exited the inner palace, and switched back to my carriage.

Alone inside, I finally took a moment to examine my pulse.

Five minutes on each wrist—everything seemed normal.

Maybe I was just overthinking.

I lifted the curtain, hoping to get a proper look at the bustling marketplace—only to find we were already past it, entering the quiet residential district for nobles.

We were almost back at the Princess Manor already?

I’d missed the chance to study the streets again. What a waste…

A lavishly decorated delivery cart carrying a giant screen passed us by.

Renovation again? Ever since this morning, such carts had been coming and going nonstop.

As the carriage stopped and I stepped down, I sighed.

Ah, home.

The palace was too stifling. Too many glances to dodge, bows to perform.

If I could help it, I’d never go back—unless I were Emperor myself.

Still feeling frustrated, I casually pointed to a random guard.

“You. Frog jump around the main courtyard. Five laps.”

He froze. “F-frog jump?”

Expressionless, I said, “Yes. How frogs jump, you jump.”

As I turned to leave, I added, “No cheating. Miss one lap and you lose a month’s pay. You—”

I pointed to another guard, “—supervise him.”

Watching one guard flail in misery while the other fretted over how to count correctly,

my mood finally lifted.