The Prince of Ping seemed barely able to contain his fury. After several deep breaths, he waved his hand, dismissing Fu Yi from the room.

Fu Yi was puzzled. His father had always held expectations for his older brother as well, even tacitly encouraging their rivalry. He often used his brother as a point of comparison to push him harder. What had changed?

He soon found out—from the lips of the Prince Consort herself.

Though bedridden for days, the Princess Consort now looked more spirited than any healthy person, her face lit with undisguised glee. Gone was the gloomy weariness, replaced by a triumphant gleam at the corners of her eyes.

"That fool’s been bewitched by some courtesan. Just like that wretched Zhou Sichun gave birth to him—he actually refused the marriage alliance with the Mo family right in front of your father, and declared he wanted to marry that lowborn woman instead. Zhou Sichen fainted on the spot! Served her right!"

The Princess Consort chuckled aloud just thinking about it. Heaven was just! Let Fu Xiao bring about his own downfall—turning his back on a brilliant future all for some cheap trinket. And now? Who else could possibly compete with Yi’er for the title of heir?

Fu Yi's brow twitched slightly. This… hadn’t happened in his previous life.

He remembered hearing vague whispers of something similar, but back then, the uproar over his own engagement to Bai Qingqing had drowned everything else out. Mo family’s second daughter had gotten involved too, which muddied the waters further. No one paid much attention to what Fu Xiao actually wanted.

So he’d truly cared for that woman—enough to give up his claim to succession?

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Fu Yi couldn’t explain why, but a trace of envy stirred within him.

Now that this had happened, the Princess Consort seemed cured overnight, her whole being rejuvenated. “Things have come to this—your father is deeply disappointed in Fu Xiao. As for the Mo family, there's no point in thinking about them anymore. Which means… we may not need to tie ourselves to that Bai girl after all.”

This brought great comfort to the Princess Consort. “To be honest, I never thought highly of her anyway. She looked meek and obedient, but she had more cunning than she let on. A girl like that in the household would only upset me. Don’t worry, Mother will find someone better for you.”

Fu Yi’s face remained expressionless. He’d never cared much about marriage before—but now, he did.

“My marriage should be something I agree to myself. You needn’t trouble yourself over it.”

The Princess Consort was about to lose her temper, but catching sight of Fu Yi’s calm, unreadable face, she forced herself to swallow it down. A strained smile tugged at her lips. “What old grudge could exist between mother and son? Are you still angry at me? Never mind—there’s no rush.”

She changed the subject. “Qingyun has been exhausting herself caring for me while I’ve been ill. Find some time to take her out. Don’t let her feel too cooped up. She’s your cousin, and as her elder brother, you ought to look after her. She’s run herself ragged for me—her little face’s gotten thinner.”

Fu Yi responded vaguely, neither agreeing nor refusing. Upon learning there was to be a poetry gathering in Xuancheng, and knowing Lu Qingyun had a fondness for such events, he made arrangements accordingly.

…

“Jie, you promised to go to the poetry gathering with me. Does that promise still stand?”

Bai Qingqing lifted her head from the spices, thought for a moment, and recalled, “That poetry gathering where all the elegant young masters gather?”

“That’s the one! Young Master Fanghe, Young Master Yu, Young Master Qingliu… Last time’s event drew so much attention. I heard there’ll be even more guests this time—eye candy galore!”

Bai Qingqing laughed softly and moved to wash her hands in a nearby bronze basin. “Of course I’ll keep my promise. It’s just that I rarely attend such gatherings—I’ve no idea what I’d even do there.”

“Just enjoy the beautiful people—that’s enough!”